Circus of life
by Maleficent Angel
Summary: Charlie decides that he does not want to end up as lonely as Mr Wonka, so insists on keeping in contact with the outside world, leading to all kinds of problems. Eventually, and we do mean eventually, WonkaOC. Rated M just to be on the safe side.
1. The ties that bind us together

Charlie raced through the sugar grass, chasing after an Oompa child that was speeding towards an exit hole with Charlie's school tie. Both were grinning as they dodged the adult Loompas who were harvesting dessert for the evening meal. Charlie was finding it easier to relax as the day drew on as today had been the last day of the summer term and now he would be spending five whole weeks at the chocolate factory, never having to step foot outside the door. Not even having to look out the window if he didn't want to. It wasn't as if he had many friends in any case – true, John and Sally were okay, but the others had avoided him until after he'd returned from the factory with an inheritance. They weren't really friends. He was still musing on this when the Oompa child stopped suddenly in front of him. Charlie hadn't noticed and went tumbling over the top of the child.

Twelve things happened almost too quickly to be real. The Oompa child shrieked in terror. Charlie screamed as he plummeted too-fast down the hill. There was a loud crack as Charlie smashed through the side of a large red pumpkin-style fruit and got covered in gunge. Charlie spluttered as he tried to remove the sweet, sticky goo from his face. Willy Wonka, who had until this point been watching the scene with some amusement, tried to run over and help, but forgot that he was the wrong side of the river and disappeared with a very final gloop. The Oompa-Loompas gave off a cacophony of high-pitched noises as they rushed to help the infant, the child and the chocolatier. Wonka's hat bobbed to the surface and floated around, looking for the world like a deformed, chocolate-coloured rubber duck. Mr Bucket dropped his newspaper. Mrs Bucket rushed out of the house and towards Charlie. Grandpa Joe bit his fingernails in worry. Above their heads, Charlie's tie, thrown in terror by the child, circled in comedy slow-motion until landing in a heap in the grass. Finally, Grandma Georgina opened one sleepy eye, yawned and went back to sleep.

Five quiet seconds passed. Four Oompa-Loompas in red bathing gear dived into the river, one retrieving the famous hat, another the cane, and the last two heaving Wonka's head above the chocolate so he could breathe. There was a painful gasp as he drew breath, then a lot of dramatic spluttering as he thrashed around for a while. The Oompa child who had tripped Charlie was now safe in his father's arms and watching the scene with ill-disguised interest. Charlie rushed over to his father. Finally…

"I can't swim!" shrieked Wonka.

"Hang on!" replied Mr Bucket. He ran towards the little house, Wonka watching his retreating back with terror.

"To what!" Either side of him, the Oompa-Loompas supporting his arms flashed each other deadpan expressions and rolled their eyes. Mr Bucket returned with a broom.

"Grab the handle and I'll pull you to shore."

"Kay…" Wonka reached up and pulled the handle sharply, nearly pulling Mr Bucket into the river with him. Thankfully, the older man had been expecting this and had braced for the inevitable. With the help of his wife and son, Mr Bucket pulled the genius from the chocolate whereupon he stood and held out his hands for his cane and hat. Placing the hat on his head, he looked down sadly at his ruined coat. Then, when quite sure he had the attention of the entire Bucket clan and most of the Oompa-Loompas, he cracked an enormous smile and giggled. "That was so cool – you know I've never dipped more than a finger into melted chocolate before? That was fun… Can we do it again?" Noticing the slightly miffed expressions on the adults' faces, he swallowed nervously and muttered, "only a joke…" quietly before grinning again at Charlie. "How was your day?" Charlie beamed back.

"Well, mainly the teachers just showed videos all day but we did have one – our physics teacher – who let us play with the oscilloscope."

"What does that do?"

"Shows you what waves look like."

"I know what waves look like – watch!" Wonka linked his fingers in front of his chest and made a wave-like motion with his arms. "See!"

"It was fun," said Charlie, defending the old physics guy more than he had intended to. Mr Robson had always been an old git, right from his first year of teaching some two centuries ago, but occasionally he'd let them 'experiment' with the really cool equipment. Charlie was sure that, on the day they'd been using the Van der Graaf generator, Robson had deliberately given Thomas Greenwood a static shock after catching him punching Charlie.

"I hate science," muttered Wonka, still dripping chocolate.

"How can you hate science – look at this place! Look at your inventing room!" exclaimed Mrs Bucket.

"Okay – I hate the science you do in school because you have to learn the theory without ever doing the practical."

"Such as?" asked Charlie.

"Steam engines and rockets and… and… elevators and forces and making things appear and disappear and… stuff." Wonka faltered. His last experience of science teaching had been when he was 14, over twenty years ago. He'd been in the bottom set – not because he was incapable of understanding the work, but because every exam time he'd get distracted and start doodling on his examination paper. The day he'd turned the paper into a perfect model of a swan had been the day his father had really lost his temper, threatening to get a tutor if the science grades in particular did not improve. His set had rarely done any practical work – the teacher knowing full well what would have happened if she'd let some of the class experiment with matches and Bunsen burners.

"Mr Wonka?" interrupted Charlie.

"Sorry… flashback. Anyway, now we have weeks and weeks of nothing but fun, fun, fun!" Wonka tried to move, then realised his trousers had set. Shaking a leg, the chocolate cracked and allowed movement. "I need to go shower. See you later!" The manic inventor who hated science skipped off. Charlie watched him go as his parents returned to their house shaking their heads ever so slightly.

Normally, he enjoyed these moments of lunacy. Sometimes however, like now, he wondered if Mr Wonka would somehow have been happier if he hadn't locked himself away for ten years. No human contact or conversation for ten years… Charlie tried to imagine what it would be like. The only people Wonka had to speak to were the Oompa-Loompas, but they didn't really seem like his friends, just very, very loyal and devoted servants or workers. He couldn't imagine a group of Oompa-Loompas and Mr Wonka enjoying a meal or a drink together, or even swapping jokes like he'd seen his father and his friends doing. And of course the trapped feeling of always being in the factory – he wondered how Mr Wonka coped.

Charlie needn't have worried of course. Mr Wonka was humming to himself ever so slightly as he shifted position in the elevator. He was wondering if perhaps he should learn to swim. But that would mean going to a swimming pool and leaving the factory… A tight feeling of panic embraced his chest. Unless – of course! He could build his own swimming room! With fish in the pool and Oompa-Loompa lifeguards in case his first attempts were less than successful and he could build it out of white marble (Wonka did recognise the usefulness of non-chocolate building materials where necessary) and the ceiling and walls could be decorated like a pirate lagoon and there could be mermaids and… The elevator stopped at his room and Wonka stepped out, pausing for only a minute to think about the mermaids. The blonde-haired, fish-tailed woman in his fantasy suddenly changed into a seashell-clad and shark-tailed Mrs Beauregarde. Wonka shuddered and stuck his tongue out in disgust, screwing up his eyes to rid himself of the image.

"No mermaids," he said firmly to the room in general.


	2. Willy Weirdo and picture frames

Two days passed without further incident (other than a few understandable mishaps in the inventing room, which could happen to anyone). Willy Wonka was striding around the meadow in his shirt and waistcoat, occasionally sweeping around as if he was expecting something to be following him. Then he would start striding off again, before stopping after another few paces and spinning around again.

"How many times?" asked Mr Bucket without taking his eyes off the newspaper.

"Fourteen. No – there he goes again. Fifteen," answered Mrs Bucket, her head propped on her hands. "Do you know, he didn't want Charlie to go outside and play today?"

"Of course not. The man's terrified of the big, bad world."

"Sixteen. He can't be – he went to Loompaland and came chasing after Charlie the day they went to visit Dr Wonka. I don't understand what's wrong with him."

"It's not so much going outside I don't think…" started Grandpa Joe.

"What is it then? Seventeen. Oh, he's fallen over. Sorry dad."

"Never mind darling. Do you remember I told you that I used to work for Mr Wonka Twenty years ago? Well, he was just a young lad then of course but he was totally devoted to his work. He rarely took a day off – even for illness! I remember we had to make him sit in the stairwell between the shop and his flat above because he had the 'flu and wasn't hygienic enough to have in either the mixing room or the shop. Still, we heard him sneezing and snorting all day-long for five days in the stairwell, poking his head through the door to check everything was fine. The only time I saw him relax was at Christmas. Everyone else would leave the shop, Mr Wonka would shut down the machines, pull down the grills at the window and doors, then disappear upstairs for Christmas."

"Eighteen – nineteen – twenty by the way." Mrs Bucket grinned at her father. "How did he used to spend Christmas?"

"I expect he used to spend it on his own. He was always bright and cheerful when we came back to work after the New Year. Maybe he just slept through the holiday!"

"Well, we know his father wasn't there. And he has no other family," pondered Mr Bucket. "How many now dear?" he asked his wife.

"Twenty-four."

"That's not all. Ten years ago, just before the factory closed down, Mr Wonka was called to Canada on a business trip. He spent only a week away from the factory, and of course we carried on making the chocolate and candies while he was gone. Two weeks after he got back, we saw that Slugworth had made his copycat chewing gum that never lost its flavour. A few months later, he closed the factory."

"So he thinks that if he leaves, someone will steal his ideas?" Mrs Bucket swivelled on her seat to face her family. Mr Bucket raised an eyebrow at her. "Thirty-eight but I can't count anymore as he's facing the house. He'll think I'm staring at him."

"Which would be weird," added Mr Bucket dryly, and slightly imitating Willy Wonka on the 'weird.' A few minutes passed as Mrs Bucket poured the tea. "Poor bloke – do you think he stayed in all through those ten years, even though the Oompa-Loompas would never give away his ideas?"

"Possibly. Although you must remember, he was in Loompaland for some of that time."

"Yes, but I think you're right. He probably did stay in the factory just in case something went wrong here," observed Grandpa Joe sadly.

"It must be awful not to be able to trust anyone," said Mrs Bucket.

"It must have been so hard for him to come after Charlie," added her husband dolefully.

"It is and it was," said a quiet voice from the door. The Buckets turned as one family unit to face the door. Willy Wonka was standing there, a hurt but somehow blank expression on his face.

"Willy," started Mrs Bucket.

"No need to explain." His voice was quiet, betrayal and hurt echoing in every syllable. "You were talking about Willy Weirdo. Lonely old Willy Weirdo. No need to explain. It doesn't matter. Excuse me," his voice finally faltered. He turned and left the house quickly, no longer pausing to spin around and look behind him. There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Weirdo," muttered Grandpa George.

"Oh Hell," muttered Mr Bucket and dashed off after Willy.

Willy Wonka had reached the glass elevator before Mr Bucket caught up with him. His expression had not changed since he'd left the house. Mr Bucket held his hand over the door jamb to prevent the door closing.

"Can we talk?" Willy looked at him briefly then nodded, bowing his head and shuffling slightly to the side. Mr Bucket stepped into the elevator and turned back to Willy. "Which room?" When he got no reply, he jabbed at a button at random and the elevator rushed off to its destination.

"Why are we going to the Television Room?" asked Willy softly.

"Are we? Oh well. We'll go somewhere else afterwards. I am sorry if you thought we were making fun of you. We were not."

"You were talking about me. You even said that I had a problem trusting people."

"You do, Mr Wonka."

"Can you wonder why?" spat back Willy, quite uncharacteristically. "I trusted my employees to work for me, gave them jobs when no-one else could or would, trusted them with the recipes I had gathered from all around the world and those I'd invented myself, then they repay my trust by selling me out!"

"Not all of your workers did that. Grandpa Joe didn't. And he still speaks very highly of you, despite the fact you put him and hundreds of others out of work overnight." If Willy felt any remorse at these words, he hid it well.

"Then I bring you all here, against my better judgement I might add, only to find that you are laughing at me behind my back!"

"We were not laughing at you!"

"Then what were you talking about me for!" shrieked Willy, tears forming in his eyes. "I trusted you all. Your wife even cooks for me – why does she do that if she thinks I'm a freak?"

"Willy, no-one thinks you're a freak."

"They do!"

"Who are 'they'?"

"Some people, outside. And your f- f- family," he gasped. Mr Bucket sighed and looked out of the elevator at the rooms whooshing past.

"Willy, we were talking about you because we are concerned about you."

"Because you think I'm a freak," muttered Willy, head lowered and hands clasped firmly on the screwball top of his candy cane.

"No. Because we think you are lonely and that you work too hard. You cannot deny you have some issues with the outside world. We were discussing them. We would have got to the part where we wonder how we can help if you hadn't come into the house."

"No you wouldn't."

"Yes, we would have. We always do. And we're always at a loss to what we could do to help you."

"You've talked about me before?"

"Many times. And we've talked about Charlie. Because we worry about Charlie too."

"What's wrong with Charlie?" asked Willy, raising his head and meeting Mr Bucket's eyes with a look of genuine concern. "Is he sick?"

"No. But he was having problems with some children at school. They were pretending to be his friends in order to get inside his factory. When they realised he wasn't going to let them in, they started picking on him."

"We could get him tutors – he wouldn't have to go out ever again!"

"No Mr Wonka. Charlie is determined to continue seeing his true friends and doesn't want to leave the outside world. There are two ways to deal with those people out there – face them, or become a recluse." There was another awkward silence.

"So, you don't think I'm a freak?"

"No. But we do think you're lonely, perhaps less so with us living here but I don't know whether you are happy about that or just irritated."

"Happy! Especially when we're all together for breakfast and dinner. It makes me feel…" he stopped. How did he feel around the dinner table with Charlie's family? Special? Important?

"Like part of the family?" said Mr Bucket with a grin. Willy nodded and tears threatened to fall again. "Shall we go back to the house? I know Molly's got the kettle on…"

"Polly."

"What?"

"Polly puts the kettle on, not Molly." Willy gave a cheeky grin.

"Yes, but my wife is Molly, not Polly." Mr Bucket reached over and hit the appropriate button for the meadow.

"Don't tell them I cried." Willy hugged himself with his right arm, the left hand still gripping his cane.

"Of course not. And anytime you want to talk, you know where we live."

"Yeah." The elevator came to a halt and both men stepped out.

"You okay to go back in there?"

"Yeah."

"Good man," said Mr Bucket.

"Thanks," whispered Willy.

"That's okay. That's what friends are for," smiled Mr Bucket, slapping Willy on the back twice. They walked in silence to the house, Willy thinking all the while _Is it?_

Mrs Bucket came running over as they reached the house.

"You found him!" She threw her arms around Mr Bucket and gave him a kiss on the nose.

"It wasn't hard…" he grinned and hugged her tight. "Tea Willy?"

"Coffee. Goes better with chocolate." He tried a fake smile, then decided the Buckets deserved better than that. He'd rather they knew he was upset than try lying to them with a fake grin and a false laugh. You didn't lie to family, he remembered that vividly…

It was October. Willy's birthday was coming up, but he knew better than to expect any presents from his father. Every year, Willy got a card and the dentist's very best wishes for the day and that was it. As a young child, he used to feel bitter about this. When he got a little older though, he would have traded even the card for a hug or a smile or a kind comment. This year was no different. It was his twelfth birthday. The previous day, he'd finished a painting in art class and had brought it home and framed it in hope of pleasing his father with the surprise. Willy didn't get any pocket money, so had taken a picture frame from a bin outside the school and cleaned it up to put the painting in. And so it was that on the morning of Willy Wonka's twelfth birthday, he stood downstairs with a picture of a lily flower in an old frame in his hands, a nervous smile and his braces on his face, and hope in his heart.

The feeling of hope didn't last. Dr Wonka came into the room at eight o' clock precisely. Willy had rushed over and given his father the painting.

"Look papa – I did this at school! I thought I'd give it to you as I know you like paintings and my art teacher said it wasn't too bad and…" actually, Willy's art teacher thought it was excellent and had been loathe to let him take the painting home, wanting it for a wall display. Dr Wonka studied the painting and looked down at the beaming child.

"Where did you get this frame?" Willy's smile faded. How could he tell his father that he was holding a piece of someone else's garbage?

"I…"

"Did you steal it?" Willy thought about this. Was it stealing to take something from a bin? He didn't think so – after all, people didn't throw things they still wanted.

"No," he said eventually.

"Then where did you get it from?"

"The school gave it to me. I asked my teacher and she said yes I could have it." Dr Wonka raised his eyebrows, but said nothing else. Willy grinned again, delighted his lie had worked. "Do you like the painting?"

"The stigma is all wrong but otherwise, well done lad. Well done. Here is your birthday card, I suggest you open it over breakfast." Willy bounced out – even the quiet "well done lad" was better than he'd received in the past. Of course, Willy's luck didn't last. Dr Wonka called the school to thank the art teacher for the frame. She of course had no idea what he was talking about. That night, when Willy came home, he saw his painting in pride of place in the hall. Dr Wonka strode into the hall to meet him.

"You like it!" said Willy, running forward. Dr Wonka plucked the painting off the wall and strode into the parlour, Willy skipping along behind. Once in the parlour, Dr Wonka turned around.

"Where did you get the frame?" he asked with a smile.

"My art teacher…"

"The truth boy!" shouted Dr Wonka, all trace of a smile gone.

"My art teacher…" sobbed Willy in fright.

"I called the school today. I spoke with your art teacher. She knew nothing of this. Now where did you get this frame?" Willy said nothing, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Did you steal it?"

"No!"

"Then where did it come from?"

"I took it out of the rubbish bins in front of the school! I cleaned it up really well before I gave it to you papa, I swear, and I only lied because I didn't want you to think my present was…"

"Rubbish?" enquired Dr Wonka softly, silencing Willy's babbling. The boy nodded sadly and looked up hopefully at his father.

"Sorry," he said in a small voice, lisping slightly through the brace.

"I am most disappointed in you Willy. Most disappointed."

"I wouldn't have given you rubbish if I had been able to get something better!"

"Not because of that. You lied to me."

"Sorry."

"This – painting – is tainted with your lies. You need a lesson in truthfulness Willy," finished the dentist. Without taking his eyes off the boy, he threw Willy's painting onto the fire. Flames curled around the corner of the frame and Willy darted from the room.

"Willy?" said Mrs Bucket. "Willy darling?" She shook his arm gently. "Willy?"

"Sorry."

"Your father again?"

"Yes." Mrs Bucket put an arm around his waist and pulled him towards her. She was too short to cuddle him properly, but did her best. At first, Willy tensed up but then remembered he could trust her not to hurt him and accepted the embrace.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay honey." She hugged him a little tighter, then let go and reached up to brush his hair softly. "Whenever you're ready. Willy closed his eyes. She pecked him on the cheek and turned away to meet her husband's disapproving glare.

"I know he's upset but did you have to…"

"He's never been shown any affection by any mother figure…"

"Mother figure? He's older than you!"

Willy listened to the whispered argument as he followed the Buckets into the house. He didn't want to cause problems for them. As they drew level to the door, the argument appeared to be over. Willy looked sheepishly at Mr Bucket.

"Sorry. I would never – you know," he nodded his head towards Mrs Bucket, "with her. Never."

"I know," sighed Mr Bucket. "I know. Come on, tea's getting cold."

"Coffee," said Willy automatically, grateful that the awkwardness was over.

"Willy why were you walking so strangely earlier?" asked Mrs Bucket.

"I missed my coat flying behind me."

"Oh – is that all!" she laughed and disappeared into the house. Mr Bucket gestured for Willy to follow. He did and gave the grandparents a toothy grin by way of greeting.

He just wished there was a way to stop the flashbacks…


	3. A night on the town

**I know I said I wouldn't do extensive author's notes but… Thanks to TrudiRose and BrokenSong for their kind words on this fanfic! Go read their work – it's brilliant! After mine, of course ;-)**

Three days later and Willy Wonka was twirling in his bedroom, admiring his new frock coat. He was unsure as to whether it was the same colour or a touch darker than the last coat. He tipped the new top hat in mock greeting to himself in the mirror.

"Excellent," he said, nodding to the Oompa-Loompa tailor behind him. His waistcoat and trousers had been rescued, but the velvet trim on his hat and coat had been quite ruined by the warm chocolate. Willy remembered how soft the chocolate had been, and how easy it would have been simply to sink into its warm embrace and into oblivion. He shook his head. That was never the answer. He would be eternally grateful to the two Oompa-Loompas who had held his head above the chocolate and also to Mr and Mrs Bucket and Charlie for pulling him to safety. But that's what friends and family did for each other, wasn't it? Didn't Mr Bucket say just the other day that he was a friend? And he himself, the great Willy Wonka, had risked his life (albeit unknowingly) when he ran to help Charlie. Friends… An odd concept thought Willy, twirling around and pointing both index fingers at his reflection. Other people who you could share your innermost thoughts with and not be judged. Odd concept. Not sure he was ever going to fully comprehend the idea, Willy tossed his cane into the air, caught it, and grinned. He bowed to the Oompa-Loompa, who departed without further comment. A few moments later, Charlie burst into the room.

"Hey, how's my huh-eir?" said Willy, mispronouncing heir deliberately.

"Fine. Dad was wondering if you wanted to join us later."

"For dinner? Great!"

"Yes, but it wouldn't be in the house."

"How splendiferous! A garden party!"

"Not quite."

"What then?"

"A restaurant. In town." Charlie noticed how his already pale mentor was turning a whiter shade.

"Of course. That would be wonderful. A dinner on the town. Great. What time?" asked Willy, not altering his tone in the slightest.

"At eight. We'll meet you by the house at seven-thirty."

"Kay…" Willy drifted off into another flashback as Charlie watched him. Charlie wondered if these flashbacks really would cease after Willy got used to the outside world, as his father had said, or if their interference in Willy's life was making matters worse. When Willy sighed and blinked, Charlie knew the flashback was over. "Hey starshine… wanna make some candy?" Willy skipped off to the elevator, hotly pursued by Charlie.

That day was spent in the inventing room. The master and the apprentice spent all day trying out new flavours and new combinations of flavours for the everlasting gobstoppers before turning to the most elusive of all inventions that had as yet foxed Willy Wonka – the meal-in-a-stick chewing gum.

"Perhaps if we try cherry pie for dessert?" suggested Charlie.

"Or apple?" tried Willy, pulling levers on the machine in front of him. Every time they changed the dessert, they expected it to work. A nervous group of Oompa-Loompas were loitering in the background, trying to hide behind various bits of machinery. Four of them had already been to the juicing room once that morning. Another three were still in the juicing room, bright yellow and only slowly returning to normal size after they'd tried out banoffee pie instead. They visibly winced as the latest strip of gum popped out.

"Here's an idea Mr Wonka," said Charlie.

"What?" Charlie bit his lip before replying.

"It's seven o'clock – maybe we should go and get ready for dinner."

"But my work…"

"Please? I don't want to be late for this."

"O-kay – off you scoot. I'll meet you downstairs."

"Promise?"

"Yeah." Charlie scuttled off and Willy looked desperately around for some way to get out of this. The latest strip of gum, with apple pie as dessert, lay in front of him. It was a distressing colour. An idea sprung to mind. He looked at a pale Oompa-Loompa who had taken over a week to get back to (almost) his normal colour. "Does the juicing machine hurt?"

The Oompa-Loompa shook his head for no and walked over to Willy, who was trying to pluck up the courage to test the gum himself in order to avoid the dinner later. It was half-way to his mouth when he felt a tug on his coat. "Yes?" he asked the little Oompa-Loompa, who responded by shaking his head and putting out his hand for the gum. Willy sighed and put the gum in the waste disposal unit instead. "I suppose you're right. I did promise. Thanks." Willy gave the Oompa-Loompa the traditional bow, which was returned by all the assembled workers. Slowly, hesitantly, he made his way to the elevator and pressed the button for his apartment.

"He's late!" whined Charlie. "And after he promised too!" Mr and Mrs Bucket exchanged looks.

"Maybe he's just been held up getting ready Charlie – I'm sure he'll be here," said Mrs Bucket. Mr and Mrs Bucket and Charlie were wearing smart new clothes bought for them recently by Willy Wonka in order that they did not always have to walk around in rags. It was now 7:40 and the three Buckets were a little concerned about Willy.

"We'll have to leave Charlie – the restaurant won't hold the booking forever. We're going to be late as it is." He stepped forward and touched Charlie lightly on the shoulder. "Come on son." The three walked towards the main door of the chocolate room.

"Hey – where are you going?" asked a voice from behind them. They turned to see Willy running towards them as fast he could. "Sorry – I couldn't decide what to wear." He looked down and clasped his hands nervously. "Do I look okay?" The Buckets regarded him critically. He had swapped the paisley shirt for a plain white one, which he was wearing under a very plain blue suit. He kept tugging nervously at the sleeves as though not quite sure the suit fitted properly. He was not carrying a cane or wearing his top hat.

"You look," started Mr Bucket, then stopped, words having failed him. Willy helped him out.

"Normal?" The three Buckets hesitated, then nodded. Willy obviously wanted to blend in. The blue leather gloves were never going to allow him to, but he had made a reasonable effort with the rest of the outfit. So they nodded, hoping no-one at the restaurant would see through his 'disguise.' "Great – let's go!" said Willy, heading for the elevator.

"Mr Wonka, we've ordered a taxi," said Charlie.

"That's weird. Kay – let's try out a taxi!"

The taxi ride was a little wearing for the older Buckets in the car. While Charlie (who had rarely ridden in a car) and Willy kept messing around and pointing out landmarks and other drivers, Mr and Mrs Bucket were feeling a little apprehensive about the night ahead. They had planned something of a surprise for Willy and hoped they had not overstepped their boundaries. Willy's hyperactivity in the car was also irritating the two of them as the taxi driver kept giving them odd looks. Finally, they arrived at the restaurant a little after five past eight.

"Let's go!" said Mr Bucket, a little too brightly. He dashed ahead to check on their table booking, leaving Charlie and Mrs Bucket to get Willy to the car.

"Wow," said Willy, looking up at the restaurant. "I wonder who makes their lights? Look – there's a pink fairy!" he giggled, pointing at a sign across the street over a nightclub. Mrs Bucket and Charlie stood either side of Willy and quickly ushered him into the restaurant. Just before entering, Willy looked up at a flag above the door. "French food? I thought they just ate frogs and snails?"

"Willy, please keep your voice down," whispered Mrs Bucket quickly, before anybody noticed.

"Oh yeah, sorry, heh, forgot my manners." He breezed forward, almost ignoring the waiter as he headed towards a table that Mr Bucket was standing next to.

"Your gloves sir?" drawled the waiter. Charlie watched, interested to see what would happen next.

"I have to take them off?" asked Willy.

"It is usual sir." Willy shrugged and removed his gloves without further comment. Charlie suppressed a giggle when he realised Willy was wearing the trademark purple latex gloves underneath.

"Thank-you my good man. Be sure to return them at the end," said Willy, giving the waiter a broad grin. Charlie also smiled at the waiter as he passed, grateful that his mother had missed the little exchange. As they drew closer to the table, Mr Bucket turned and stopped them going directly there.

"Mr Wonka…"

"I told you it's Willy to my friends," replied Willy with a genuine smile, his eyes lighting up.

"We asked a guest to come to dinner. I hope you don't mind." Mr Bucket glanced at his wife, who looked nauseous. Charlie tugged his father's sleeve.

"Who is it Dad?" nagged Charlie. Mr Bucket remained silent.

"Probably not, no, who is it?" said Willy, sweeping past Mr Bucket. He bounced up to the table and looked at the guest. The guest stood up and smiled at Willy, extending a hand in greeting. Willy's smile froze and slowly disappeared. He licked his lips nervously and swallowed, starting to breathe carefully and slowly through his mouth to calm himself.

"I know we should have told you," said Mrs Bucket, "but if we had, you wouldn't have come." She clung on to Mr Bucket's arm. Charlie watched the scene open-mouthed. Willy reached over and took the guest's hand in his. He met the guest's eyes and tried to smile.

"Hi Dad."


	4. Dinner

Willy released his father's hand and sat down awkwardly opposite the old man. Neither said anything for a few moments as the Buckets took their seats. Willy looked at Mr and Mrs Bucket.

"So this is who you invited for dinner? When?"

"A few days ago. We thought it might be nice for the two of you to catch up." Mrs Bucket looked as though she could scarcely believe she'd just said those words, meeting Willy's eyes with an apologetic look. "It has been six months since you saw your father last," she added.

"And you do think about him every day," chipped in Mr Bucket.

"Yeah, well, there was no need to drag him away from work," muttered Willy quietly, looking quickly at his father then down at his napkin. His father reached over the table and touched Willy's hand softly.

"I can leave if you would rather I wasn't here," said Dr Wonka, looking at the top of his son's head as he spoke. Willy lifted his gaze from the napkin to meet his father's eyes. He looked at him for some time before answering.

"No. Please stay."

No-one spoke more than was absolutely necessary to be polite while they chose their starters and main courses. As a waitress brought over their drinks (wine for Mr and Mrs Bucket and Dr Wonka and orange juice for Willy and Charlie), Charlie asked Dr Wonka what it was like to be a dentist.

"It's fascinating work Charlie. Most of the time it's the usual grind of fillings, check-ups and tooth removal, but sometimes people come in for dental work to improve their teeth and that is where my interest lies."

"I know," mumbled Willy, clutching at his lower jaw.

"Do you know Charlie, in all my time as a dentist, I've never seen two people with the same teeth? Not even identical twins! It's ever so interesting – and it's amazing how well some people look after their teeth compared to others."

"Like some people floss and others don't," said Willy, rolling his eyes, "Fascinating," he added in a sarcastic tone. Dr Wonka ignored him.

"What's the grossest thing you've ever seen?" asked Charlie, trying to be polite but ultimately fascinated by anything gory.

"Well, there was one girl who ate nothing but candy and never brushed. She was about sixteen and her teeth were nearly all rotten – there was nothing to do but remove them and fit her with dentures. She had the most awful gum disease I've ever seen."

"Yeargh," gagged Willy, quickly drinking down some orange juice.

"Which was worse, the teeth or the gums?" asked Charlie.

"I think her breath was worse than both," chuckled Dr Wonka. Charlie and his parents laughed, but Willy turned a green colour and stood up. He quickly scanned the restaurant and walked stiffly towards the toilets. Charlie was half out of his seat when Dr Wonka stood and reached across Mrs Bucket to stop him. "I'll go," he said.

Willy held onto the basin in front of him. He hadn't been sick, but thought it was only a matter of time before he was. Thankfully, the restaurant was quiet tonight and there were only two other men in the toilets, both chatting about their respective wives and too absorbed in conversation to notice Willy much. He looked up into the mirror and swallowed.

"Hell," he whispered.

"What have I told you about mumbling?" boomed his father's voice.

"Not now!" said Willy, clutching his head. A hand on his arm stopped him continuing his rant. He looked around at Dr Wonka, who raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

"Pardon?"

"I didn't realise it was you. I thought…" _I thought I was having a flashback about you_, he added in his mind. Would it be so hard to explain to the old man that his words still haunted him even now? To his surprise, Dr Wonka took his son's hands into his own.

"I know what you thought. They told me."

"They promised they wouldn't!" exclaimed Willy, then thought about this. "Actually, no, they didn't. I never really brought up the topic of whether they were allowed to tell anyone."

"They are worried about you. And so am I. Shall we go back to the table? We can talk later. If you've recovered enough that is?" Dr Wonka looked at his son's face, which had paled even more at these words.

"I could do with some fresh air."

"I'll come with you." Dr Wonka led the way out of the toilets and through the back door of the restaurant onto the garden terrace, used for lunches during the day. The tables had all been stacked away for the night, so he and Willy sat on a low wall and looked out at the well-kept lawn and flower beds ahead.

"Thanks," said Willy. He was still having problems with this. Despite the fact his father had been overjoyed to see him six months ago, he still wasn't sure his father was genuinely happy to be there with him. He wondered whether Dr Wonka would approve of the chocolate room in his factory, given his memories of his father's hatred of candy. Then again, the old man had collected everything to do with his son's business – newspaper cuttings, chocolate bar wrappers (did he eat the chocolate? Willy wondered) and more besides. It was – nice – to be out here with his father, pretending like the last thirty eight years had been perfect. But the reality was that his father had always been too busy with his work or had simply not been there when Willy had needed him the most.

A few minutes later, Dr Wonka sighed and looked up at the stars. Willy followed his gaze.

"You know, your mother would have loved this view. She was ever so interested in astronomy."

"Was she?" asked Willy. He knew very little about his mother and did not remember her at all.

"That was her hobby. I remember buying her a telescope and taking her to the country at weekends so she could stargaze without the glare of the town lights. We would pitch a tent in the middle of nowhere, and I would sleep while she made observations." Dr Wonka misted a little and wiped his eyes. Willy looked away – the image of a young woman playing with a telescope while his father slept in a tent playing behind his eyes.

"I never knew."

"I should have told you. Of course, she rarely went out much in the nights after you were born."

"Sorry – I spoiled things for you both, didn't I?" blurted out Willy, biting his bottom lip. Dr Wonka carefully slipped an arm around Willy's shoulders.

"Not at all. We both agreed that you were the best thing to happen to us. And I still think that." He pulled Willy a little closer. Willy looked up and shook his head.

"No, you don't. You were always telling me how I was a disappointment to you and you were always telling me off and… you never talked about her!"

"How could I when every time I tried to tell you what she was like I'd look at you and see her eyes staring straight back at me?" Dr Wonka brushed Willy's hair out of his eyes with his free hand. "I may have been a little harsh on you Willy."

"You mean abandoning me aged fifteen wasn't part of your great 'let's turn Willy into a well-balanced individual' plan?" Willy shrugged himself free and glared menacingly at the ground. "It's your fault I'm a freak."

"You ran away," observed Dr Wonka, defensively.

"So did you! How did you move the house? Why did you move the house?"

"How do you think?"

"Did Mr Granger help?"

"Yes."

"Oh," said Willy, satisfied but still not happy about the answer. "Why did you leave me all alone?"

"I was angry Willy and did a stupid thing. I regretted it almost immediately, but when I went back to the street you'd gone. I searched for you for years and then one day I saw a chocolate shop. I couldn't see you inside, but your name was above the door. For days I wondered how to get in and see you, but then I realised you probably didn't want to see me and I left."

"I didn't know," said Willy in a small voice. "Every Christmas, I used to look out for you. I even used to decorate and cook dinner hoping you'd turn up. You never did."

"I used to do the same." Both Wonka men looked at the grass, weighing up all the times they could have made the effort to see each other and just hadn't been brave enough to do it. "Want to go inside?" asked Dr Wonka eventually.

"Yeah. Let's see what they've done to our starters."

The rest of the meal passed pleasantly enough. Charlie and his parents were stunned when Dr Wonka started to ask questions about Willy's career. He knew what had been in the papers over the years, but still insisted on a blow-by-blow account of everything that had happened to Willy. He sympathised with Willy's feelings of betrayal by his workers and to Charlie's amazement seemed fascinated by the idea of the chocolate room.

"An entire room that is edible?"

"Yes. Apart from Charlie's house of course. And his family," Willy giggled hysterically, then remembered himself and hid behind his glass. Dr Wonka gave Willy an encouraging smile and carried on talking to him.

"It's going rather well, isn't it?" whispered Mrs Bucket from her seat next to Dr Wonka to her husband, who was next to her.

"Yes. Hope this helps him fight his demons."

"Charlie dear, how did they get on last time?" Charlie got up from his seat next to Willy and leaned over to his parents.

"They didn't talk this much. They hugged – kind of – for a while then Willy read the wall of the surgery while Dr Wonka hung around in the background."

"Read the wall?" asked Mr Bucket slowly.

"Oh, Dr Wonka has newspaper clippings about Willy's chocolate business up there."

"Okay," said Mr Bucket. "Not quite as crazy as that could have been."

"Then they just looked at each other and Dr Wonka said that he'd missed Willy and was delighted he had the chance to say how proud he was of him."

"What did Willy say?" asked Mrs Bucket.

"Nothing. He just gave Dr Wonka a quick hug and ran out the door towards the elevator." Charlie shrugged and sat back down.

"Do you think Willy will be okay?" asked Mrs Bucket.

"Yes. I think. I don't know," replied her husband.

"That was an excellent meal!" exclaimed Dr Wonka. Willy nodded in agreement and sat back unsteadily. His father and the Buckets had encouraged him to try a wine spritzer with dessert and he was not sure that alcohol agreed with him. He was definitely not running at full efficiency. Reluctantly, the party got up to leave, Willy leaning on Charlie a little for support. Once Dr Wonka had cleared the bill, they waited outside for their respective taxis.

"Oh, here's ours," said Mr Bucket, clambering inside. Charlie and Mrs Bucket followed.

"It was – nice – to see you again, Dad," said Willy, once again feeling awkward now the time to say goodbye had arrived.

"Likewise," answered Dr Wonka. Willy turned to leave. "Wait – I have something for you." Dr Wonka reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a small photograph album. Willy took it and flipped through quickly. There was his father in his military uniform, looking stern and soldier-like. Then another picture of his father in his usual clothes, still not smiling. Willy flipped over again. There was a picture of his parents together, both smiling out of him through the black and white haze. Willy flipped through some more pictures until he found one of his mother holding a tiny infant up to the camera with a brilliant smile on her face. He noticed his father sitting next to her, smiling not at his wife this time but at the child.

"Is that me?" asked Willy, pointing to the baby and frowning at the scrunched up face.

"Yes." Willy pocketed the album and held out his hand. Dr Wonka took it and shook hands.

"Thanks," said Willy. He got into the taxi and sat back, watching as his father walked towards his own taxi. Their driver was about to leave when he shouted. "Stop!" Willy ran from the car and towards his father, hitting him at full speed and burying his head in his chest. Dr Wonka shook his head only slightly and ruffled Willy's hair, hugging him back before stepping back and getting into the taxi. Willy skipped back over and sat down next to Charlie. The driver set off.

"Did you have a nice time tonight Willy?" asked Charlie.

"I think I did. Did you know my father was going to be there?"

"No. Mum and Dad must have organised that."

"I expect so. Did you have a good time?"

"Yes." Charlie yawned and Willy gave him a quick hug, which was returned by Charlie. Over the top of Charlie's head, Willy looked at Mr and Mrs Bucket, who were still grinning nervously at him. Willy gave them a silent wink, grinned, and mouthed the words,

"Thank-you."


	5. Memory Drops

Charlie swung around the lamppost once more and shrieked with laughter. Then he dashed off after John and Sally again, chasing them up the high street of the town. The early autumn air beat down onto their backs as they stopped, one after the other, outside the factory gates.

"What's it like in there Charlie?" asked Sally. "Is there really a chocolate river?" Charlie nodded. He'd avoided telling them much about the interior of the factory, but the other winners had given interviews since the tour and described the factory in great detail. This had upset Mr Wonka, but thankfully none of the stories had contained much about his recipes and the only brief downturn had been in the sale of the chocolates containing nuts (some children being squeamish about the fact they were shelled by squirrels).

"And the Oompa-Loompas, what do they do? Do they really sing all the time?" asked John.

"No. Most of the time they keep to themselves, but we usually hear a song every two days or so."

"What do they sing about?"

"The weather, Loompaland, past events in the factory, present events in the factory, future events in the factory…" Charlie trailed off, then realised what he'd said. "Not that they're ever right of course – it's just fun to listen to." He laughed, relieved when his friends did too.

"I've got to get home," said Sally. "It's getting late. Shall I see you at school tomorrow Charlie?"

"Yeah, first day back! Joy, oh wondrous joy!" beamed John, before pouting dramatically. "Crap. Can't the school holidays last six weeks like they used to? Who thought up this six-term-year?"

"The government I think," said Charlie, glumly. He was starting to wish he'd taken up Willy's idea of a private school place, as they always had longer holidays than normal schools.

"Typical. Great idea to put the adults in charge of schools. See you tomorrow Charlie."

"Bye Charlie!" said Sally as she and John headed off up the street.

"Bye guys!" Charlie laid a hand upon the gates and they swung open enough to admit him before closing again. To anyone watching, it would have appeared magical, but Charlie knew that Willy employed two Oompa-Loompa gatekeepers to control the gate at all times.

Inside the chocolate room again, Charlie breathed in the magical scent of chocolate. He stood for a moment, drinking in the atmosphere, before heading to his home where he knew his mother would have dinner ready. He stooped down to pick some grass to chew on before heading into the house.

"Evening Charlie," said Grandpa Joe.

"Hi everyone!" answered Charlie, heading for the dinner table where his mother was dishing up his dinner.

"I kept it warm for you on the stove, my love," said Mrs Bucket, kissing him on the forehead lightly.

"Thanks Mum. Has Mr Wonka been over today?"

"Yes. He stopped by for dinner. He's looking a lot better these days Charlie."

"I think you're right, Mum. The flashbacks aren't happening so often. When they do, he doesn't get depressed about it anymore, he just looks through that old album his dad gave him."

"Knew it would work," said Mr Bucket. "Poor guy had problems with his father because they never talked. Get them talking – problem solved! We should have thought of it earlier. You mark my words Charlie – Mr Wonka's going to feel much better with every passing day."

Upstairs, in his private rooms, Willy Wonka lifted his head sleepily from the sofa he'd been sprawled on for the last hour. He scrambled to try and get up for a few moments before realising that climbing over the back of the sofa was probably not the best idea. Swinging his legs over the end, he stood up and yawned, stretching and clicking his back into place. He sighed.

"Wonder what everyone's up to?" He said, still with his just-woke-up voice. He glanced at the shining display on the clock. "Hmm, Charlie's probably going to bed now. I'll leave it 'til morning." He staggered to the door and flipped on the light switch. A rich purple room swung into focus, the red sofa and bedclothes blending with the purple walls and carpet. The wood, of which there was a lot in this room, was a rich dark oak, polished to a shine. Willy plonked himself down at his dressing table and brushed out his hair. As he brushed, he caught a glimpse of the photograph album poking out of his coat pocket behind him, the coat draped over the back of the sofa. He put the brush down and crossed back to the sofa, perching like a bird on the end and reaching for the album. As he leafed through the pages, he heard his father's voice playing in his head.

"That's when we were on holiday in Romania… This was taken at Christmas – you can just see the tree in the background… You see the way your mother's holding her hand over her stomach? She was six months pregnant with you at that point, not that anyone could tell, she was such a petite little thing…"

Willy had seen his father twice more since the dinner. Both times had been at the dentist's house and both times had involved much discussion about his mother. He had always known she died in a car accident before his first birthday, but not that she'd lived three days after the accident and died in hospital. His father had told him how he'd waited by the bedside for her to wake up, but all in vain.

"She'd only popped out to buy some food," said his father's voice as Willy gazed at a picture of the mother he never knew.

"Hi Mum," whispered Willy. "I turned out alright in the end, after all. I'm going to see Dad again this weekend. I know you'd be pleased that we're getting on so well now." He reluctantly closed the photograph album and placed it back in his coat pocket before changing for bed. Exhausted, he pulled on his pyjamas without much thought and crossed to the bed, patting a brass telescope (his mother's) affectionately as he passed it. His father had given it to him a fortnight earlier with instructions to keep it away from chocolate. Willy grinned and collapsed back on his bed as he remembered the smile on his father's face. He reached up above the bed and clicked off the lights.

The next day, Charlie headed off early to school so that he could walk in with John and Sally. Willy watched him go with mixed feelings – it was nice that Charlie had friends of course, but that didn't mean the inventing room wasn't going to feel slightly empty today. He headed off, anxious to bury himself in his work. Charlie's father was right – the flashbacks were rarer these days, but they still occurred. Like the day that he was first told about how his mother had died and spent five minutes remembering how he and his father had visited the grave in the town cemetery on the anniversary of her death each year. Later that evening, he had tried to visit her grave again, but couldn't find it amongst all the others. Ashamed he'd forgotten the place, he still hadn't asked his father where the grave was. Willy shook off the memory and headed into the inventing room. Looking around at the cold metal around him, he suddenly had a flash of inspiration. Memory drops… Things that help you remember what you've forgotten! Imagine how useful they'd be in exams – you'd never need to revise again! Just suck on one of these and your lessons will come flooding back to you! He set to work, throwing various chemicals into the mix. The Oompa-Loompas crowded around, interested despite themselves. At least it's not that infernal meal-in-a-stick gum, they thought collectively.

Hours later, the mix seemed ready to test. He was pretty sure he had it right first time. He picked up one of the tiny memory drops.

"Okay, I'll test this one myself I think. I would like to remember…" he stopped. Most of what he'd successfully blanked out had probably been painful. Then it hit him. "I want to remember what my mother looked like for real when I was a baby." He took a huge breath in, nodded to the Oompa-Loompas (who held their hands up and crossed their fingers at him) and popped the Memory Drop into his mouth. "Hmm, strawberry flavour, I don't remember adding that, oh well…" An image of his mother's face swum before his eyes and he smiled. A quick succession of scenes from his early life flashed before him – coming home from hospital, cuddled against her in front of the Christmas tree, his first summer. "She was beautiful Dad, just like you said." Unbidden, the memory of his conversation with his father replayed in his mind. "Eww, I remember that just fine thanks. Get back to Mum!" She was leaning down to kiss him, he was in his father's arms, he was crying… "Gosh, but I was horrible," thought Willy. The woman in his memory walked down the hall and the memories abruptly ended. "I guess that was the day she died," said Willy. He spat out the rest of the sweet, residual memories of the smell of the hospital still haunting him. He popped an everlasting mint into his mouth to clear the taste and nodded to the Oompa-Loompas. "I want each of you to try and remember something – anything – that you've forgotten using these Memory Drops to help. Half of you are to spit out the sweet after you've successfully remembered the memory, the rest of you are to keep sucking until the sweet has gone. 'Kay?" The Oompa-Loompas nodded and bowed, Willy following suit and breezing jauntily out of the door. He pranced back to the meadow, hoping it wasn't too late for dinner.

Charlie and the rest of the Bucket clan were already eating when Willy burst in through the door.

"Hello!" said Willy in a slightly creepy voice. He grinned maniacally and dived into his seat between the two grandmothers. Mrs Bucket raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh, sorry – can I join you?"

"Of course Willy. Had a good day?"

"Yes – I've invented a new sweet! Memory Drops! The Oompa-Loompas are testing them now. I tried one earlier and they actually work!"

"What do they do Willy?"

"Well, you know sometimes you really can't remember something and no matter how hard you try it just won't come back to you? Just suck a Memory Drop and it will! Instantly – all you have to do is concentrate on what you want to remember."

"Wow Mr Wonka – that's so cool! Can I borrow some for my exams at Christmas?"

"No Charlie, that's called cheating," admonished Mrs Bucket.

"Oh but that's the whole point!" replied Willy, whining.

"What did you try to remember Mr Wonka?" asked Grandpa Joe. Willy's face fell.

"My mother," he said quickly, turning back to his food. "This is fabulous Mrs Bucket – what is it?"

"Chicken stew."

"Gosh, I've never had such great stew before. You are a wonderful cook Mrs Bucket."

"Thanks Willy. Bread?"

"Thanks." There were a few precious seconds of silence. Willy looked around the Buckets' house for the hundredth time. He was always fascinated by the rough paintings Charlie had done of him and the chocolate factory when Charlie had been younger. The model of the Chocolate factory made from misshapen toothpaste lids was still in its cupboard to keep it safe and every so often Willy would study it carefully, grinning at the stick figure of himself.

"Any side effects of that new sweet of yours?" asked Grandpa George.

"Not as yet. I'm fine, and I would have heard something by now if the Oompa-Loompas had discovered something." He put his spoon down and started gesticulating wildly, as he always did when excited about a topic. "Did you know that the Oompa-Loompas have a much faster metabolism than we do – just like mice – so any side-effects from my chocolate would always appear in them within two hours, the chocolate having left their system entirely after three hours. They're so useful to have as workers. Not to mention kind, friendly and loyal. I'm such a lucky guy." Willy started to grin and waggled his head back and forth as he finished the sentence, picking up his spoon and slurping the stew again. Grandpa George rolled his eyes, but the rest of the family just grinned. Grandma Georgina laughed, but of course she wasn't entirely sure why.

The next day, having checked that all of his Oompa-Loompa testers were okay, Willy invited Mr and Mrs Bucket to try out the Memory Drops. As they stood in the inventing room, each nervously holding a sweet and looking at Willy, he grinned at them and tapped them both comfortingly on the shoulders.

"I'll be right here. And so will the Oompa-Loompas. We're all fine. So will you be – just remember to concentrate on the memory you want to find. If you get scared, just spit out the sweet." Unknown to the Buckets, Willy had tested a few of the Memory Drops on some Oompa-Loompas earlier that morning. He'd told them not to concentrate too hard and to let their minds wander. They'd reported that, apart from remembering some random things and getting lost in their memories for a while, they were absolutely fine. Mr and Mrs Bucket linked hands and popped the sweets.

Willy watched their faces as they relived memories of their past. He respected their privacy enough not to ask what they were trying to re-live, so instead concentrated on studying their faces during the session. Mrs Bucket was glazed over, mouth only slightly moving as she sucked the Memory Drop. Willy grinned at the vacant expression on her face. Mr Bucket was similarly motionless. After ten minutes of this, Willy started to get a little concerned however. It wasn't unfeasible for something to have gone wrong, however extensively he had tested the sweets. After twenty minutes, Willy started pacing back and forth, occasionally nibbling his gloves at knuckle level in worry. It was after twenty-five minutes more that Mr Bucket coughed, spat out the Memory Drop and blinked furiously. Willy indicated that he should drop the sweet into the waste disposal and handed him an everlasting mint.

"How did it feel?" asked Willy.

"I remembered everything I wanted to, but I lost concentration and wandered off into thinking about my job. How long was I out?"

"Nearly an hour." Willy saw Mr Bucket flinch at that news, and his worry about the sweets redoubled.

"How's Molly?"

"Still remembering." They watched her with trepidation.

Mrs Bucket was running through the grass in the sugar meadow in her mind. Charlie had just gone hurtling down a hill and Willy Wonka was nothing more than a floating hat in the chocolate river. Charlie was very still, his head embedded in the red fruit. She screamed for her son.

"Charlie! Charlie!"

"Spit it out!"

"Charlie!"

"Spit it out Molly!"

"Hold her jaws open!"

"Charlie…" There was a tense silence broken only occasionally by a gagging sound from Mrs Bucket as Willy Wonka reached into her mouth with two thin fingers and extracted the Memory Drop. He nodded to Mr Bucket to let her go. "Charlie… Charlie…" Mrs Bucket blinked. "What happened? Where's Charlie?"

"At school. We're in the inventing room. Don't you remember?" Mr Bucket tensed up and held his wife in his arms, fearing the worst.

"Yes, of course. I think the mix might be a little strong Mr Wonka. This cannot be sold in sweet shops." She took an everlasting mint from Willy before he turned around and leaned against the machine he'd spent the day before constructing.

"It's far too bloody dangerous – suppose we hadn't taken it out of her mouth?" said Mr Bucket.

"I agree. It was a brilliant idea, poorly executed." Willy looked down at the rest of the sweets in the collecting drawer and tipped them quite deliberately into the waste disposal.

"Perhaps the dosage is too high…" suggested Mrs Bucket.

"Maybe you could offer the recipe to the health service for people with amnesia," said Mr Bucket. Willy shook his head.

"Under controlled conditions, in my laboratory, I harmed two of the people I care about the most. I cannot release these – things – into the real world. What if someone slipped one to someone pretending it was a normal sweet?" Willy paused and let the implications of this scenario play out in the Buckets' minds. "I'm wiping the recipe and destroying the machine."

"You're sure?" asked Mr Bucket.

"Absolutely. I'll see you for dinner," finished Willy, picking up a spanner and heading for the Memory Drop machine with an odd glint in his eye. Mr and Mrs Bucket withdrew from the inventing room quickly.

Dinner that night was more subdued. Mr Bucket explained what had happened to Charlie and the rest of the family and gave strict instructions that no-one was to pick on Willy for what had happened. The family were tucking in to dessert by the time Willy arrived. He staggered in, looking awful and covered in a thin patina of sweat.

"Mr Wonka – are you alright?" asked Charlie.

"Yes, fine," he snapped irritably. After composing himself a little, he continued. "Just finished dismantling the Memory Drop machine, that's all.." He glanced around for his dinner, which appeared to be missing. Crestfallen, he was heading for the pineapple upside-down cake when Mrs Bucket called,

"Your dinner is in the oven Willy." He nodded and leaned over to open the oven door.

"How was school?" asked Willy, apparently to the grill-pan, his head to one side. Charlie took a chance and answered him.

"Great. We're constantly being nagged about our SATs though – and we don't even sit them until May."

"Like they even matter," scoffed Willy. Charlie looked a little affronted, but before he could say anything there was a loud shriek from Willy. He'd tried to pick the plate up from the oven with his (almost) bare hands and had burned himself, dropping the plate neatly onto the shelf of the oven in the process without spilling a drop of gravy. Mrs Bucket was around the table like a shot, pulling Willy to the sink and running the cold tap over his hands to relieve the stinging.

"Keep your hands under there," she instructed.

"Yes. Ow. Ow. Ow."

"I should have told you the oven was on. Sorry." She backed off and sat down.

"Yes, you should have," snapped Willy. "Ow." Willy didn't notice the look on Mrs Bucket's face or the fact that Mr Bucket and Grandpa George were slowly losing their tempers at the fuss Willy was making.

"Sorry," said Mrs Bucket again.

"Do you need to see a doctor for your hands Mr Wonka?" asked Charlie.

"No. I'll see to them myself. A few more minutes and I'll be fine. Stupid plate. Why was the oven on?"

"To keep your food warm," explained Mrs Bucket. "We didn't know when you'd be here."

"Well you should have warned me," growled Willy in response. He pulled his hands out from under the tap and looked down at them. The latex of his gloves had melted, revealing some flesh around the fingertips. "And look what you did to…" he stopped, catching the hurt looks on both Mrs Bucket's and Charlie's faces. He closed his eyes and looked down. "I'm not hungry. I need to leave."

"Good idea," said Grandpa George. "Don't let the door hit you in the arse on the way out." Willy nodded quietly and left to care for his burned fingers. Grandpa George looked around the table and met his son's eyes. "If you think I'm going to apologise for swearing you can…"

"I don't want you to. It needed to be said," stated Mr Bucket quickly, but calmly. "Charlie, I know Mr Wonka upset you tonight but I want you to remember it's been a long day and we all need some rest. After you finish dessert I'd like you to go to bed."

A few minutes of silence later, Mr Bucket banged his mug down and stormed off through the door of the house.

"Where's Dad going?" asked Charlie.

"Probably to punch that git," mumbled Grandpa George.

"Off to bed Charlie. I think we all could do with some rest," said Mrs Bucket, glaring at Grandpa George.

"But Mum!"

"Bed. Now!" She walked over to the door and looked out into the meadow before closing it. "Don't do anything stupid Michael," she whispered.

Willy was sitting in his room carefully cutting off the purple gloves when there was a knock at the door. He hesitated a little.

"Come in – it's open." Mr Bucket walked through the door and slammed it behind him, making Willy jump and rip through the glove he was cutting.

"Can I help you?" asked Willy, turning back to the delicate operation in front of him, trying to ignore Mr Bucket. However, Mr Bucket was having none of this and snatched the scissors from Willy's hand, forcing him to pay attention.

"I am sorry for you that your precious Memory Drops did not work out as planned. But that does not give you the right to talk to my wife and son like that, or to behave like a spoilt brat in my house. You are old enough and ugly enough to own up when you have made a mistake Willy Wonka and you are damn well going to apologise to us all over breakfast tomorrow, is that clear?" Willy nodded fervently and bit his lip.

"I did know – that's why I left. I'm…" Mr Bucket cut him off.

"Not now – not to me. You apologise to us all tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Willy watched as Mr Bucket stormed back out of the room. He looked back down at his hands. He was going to need help for this. Pulling a cord next to the door with some difficulty, he summoned an Oompa-Loompa. "Get these gloves off me without tearing my skin off – 'kay?" The Oompa-Loompa nodded and picked a tiny pair of scissors out of his pocket, proceeding to prise the latex off Willy's hands. Occasionally, he would whimper with pain, but just nodded in response when the Oompa-Loompa looked up as if to ask whether it was okay to carry on. When he was clear of latex, Willy looked down and realised his hands hadn't been badly burned at all. In fact, they looked fine, just a little redder than was usual. Just in case, he sought out some burn salve from his medicine cabinet (quite an unusual cabinet, in that most of the remedies were home-made or imported from Loompaland) and applied it gingerly to his hands. A pair of cotton manicure gloves completed the treatment. He knew he'd acted completely out of character, but he could forgive himself a little as he had been dreadfully upset at almost harming Mr and Mrs Bucket. And he'd been in a considerable amount of pain thanks to the burns. That didn't give him the right to act like that though, he thought. How exactly like my father… Willy sat down and looked out of the window, gazing at the stars.

Mr Bucket was on his way back to the meadow in the elevator when a thought struck him. Willy had obviously been flustered when he had come into the house. He'd seen the man lose colour, flush, and turn green with varying emotions before, but he'd never seen him work up a sweat. Either he was ill or something he'd done was physically exerting. Mr Bucket stopped the elevator and thought for a few moments before pressing the button for the Inventing Room. A few moments later, he stepped through the doorway into chaos. Some Oompa-Loompas were trying to tidy up what had obviously been the result of a Wonka tantrum. The Memory Drop machine was in pieces all over the floor, the components of the machine having been smashed and bent out of shape by what looked like a huge spanner in the corner. Other machines had either been turned off or had been broken, a drinks machine making strange whirring noises in the background. On top of this, one of the windows on the Everlasting Gobstopper machine had been broken and there was water everywhere. Mr Bucket stood in the middle of the room, watching the Oompa-Loompas tidying up.

"Mr Wonka – what have you done to your Inventing Room?"


	6. Invitation to the circus

Charlie woke up early on Friday morning, just in time to see the Oompa-Loompas pulling back the covers from the skylight high in the ceiling above. Charlie pulled himself up to gaze out of the gap in the roof of the house that served as his window as natural light flooded into the meadow, glinting off the chocolate river and the crystals of sugar on the candy trees. A small army of Oompa-Loompas was moving out to prune, harvest and re-plant the meadow all around him. Yawning, Charlie leaned over to his bedside table and reached for his watch. Six-thirty. Deciding it was unreasonably early, Charlie snuggled back under the covers to try and catch some more sleep. He cast one last look across the meadow and closed his eyes.

A little distance from the house, a pink bush appeared to exhale in relief. It rustled experimentally, then extended a purple-gloved hand towards the ground. A second, identical hand followed suit and a tall, lean man in a burgundy coat pulled himself horizontally from the bush. Standing up, Willy Wonka brushed himself down and took a final glance around the room. He paused, patting his pockets, clearly looking for something. He found it, reaching inside a coat pocket and producing an old and battered black leather wallet. He slipped it back inside his pocket, straightened his hat and crept out of the chocolate room unseen by the Buckets and witnessed only by the several hundred Oompa-Loompas behind him.

"More bacon Charlie?" asked Mrs Bucket.

"No thanks mum, I'd better be going soon," said Charlie, wolfing down the remainder of his breakfast and running off to the bathroom.

"What's up darling?" asked Mrs Bucket, looking over to her husband. Mr Bucket's tea had gone cold and he was drumming his fingertips on the table while staring at the clock. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes dear. I was just wondering if… Never mind. I'll explain when Charlie's gone to school." He took a draught of his tea, gagged slightly at the coldness, and swallowed hard. At that, Charlie reappeared and bounced up to his grandparents, kissing each of them on the cheek. He moved over to his mother.

"Take care love – I'll see you for dinner," whispered Mrs Bucket, pecking him on the forehead and cuddling him briefly. Charlie turned to his father and received a hug and had his hair rustled up for his trouble.

"Oh, Dad!" moaned Charlie, smoothing his hair down and grinning.

"Have a nice day, son," answered Mr Bucket, picking up his paper. Almost immediately, there was a loud, rapid knocking that sounded as if it was being made by a cane. "Come in," drawled Mr Bucket. Willy Wonka swept into the room and gave a nervous smile by way of greeting, dropping his hat and cane by the door.

"Charlie, could you come here please?" asked Willy. As Charlie walked over to him, Willy dropped to his knees and pulled Charlie into a hug. "Sorry I upset you. I was just tired and it was all my fault and not yours." Charlie returned the hug and Willy smiled, pulling back from Charlie quickly as his eyes started to mist up. "Friends?" he said, standing and extending a hand.

"Friends," replied Charlie, shaking it. He turned and grinned at his parents before leaving the house for school. Willy walked towards the double bed that three of the four grandparents were still tucked up in.

"I'm sorry for disturbing your meal last night and for behaving so badly in front of you." He held out his hand to Grandma Georgina, who giggled girlishly and hugged it. Grandma Josephine simply shook hands. When it came to Grandpa George's turn, he held Willy's gaze for a few minutes first. Realising this was one staring contest that he was not going to win, Willy averted his eyes and felt Grandpa George shake his hand. Behind Willy, Grandpa Joe stood up and held out his hand.

"Apology accepted Mr Wonka," said Grandpa Joe as Willy took his hand. Willy nodded briefly and walked to the door of the house. He stepped outside as the Bucket family watched him with puzzled expressions. Reaching above the doorframe, he pulled down a bunch of flowers and walked back into the house, presenting the flowers to Mrs Bucket with a flourish.

"My apologies for blaming you for my stupidity," said Willy. Mrs Bucket turned red and reached up to give Willy a quick hug. He turned around to Mr Bucket. "Sorry," he muttered, holding out a hand. Mr Bucket shook it warmly and pulled Willy into a hug, slapping him on the back a few times. The two men backed away from each other and nodded awkwardly a few times. "Kay – I'm off. See you later." Willy picked up his hat and cane and headed out of the house, not daring to smile until he was out of view. He was pleased that his apology had been accepted by the Buckets, delighted that the clandestine trip to buy flowers that morning had not been in vain. He remembered something from childhood about buying flowers for women you were apologising to. He wasn't entirely sure of the logic behind the tradition of giving dyingplants, but reasoned that anyone would be happy to receive a present and would therefore be more likely to accept an apology.

Willy stepped into the elevator and hesitated a moment. Ordinarily, he would have travelled straight to the Inventing Room, but he didn't feel like inventing anything today. He also doubted that the Oompa-Loompas would have cleaned up after his little tantrum last night. He had intended to simply destroy the Memory Drop machine, but had got a little carried away. He was aware that the last time he had lost control to that degree had been the night he decided to shut the factory, having spent some time before that decision systematically dismantling the old taffy-puller. At least he'd reined in his temper before it had got to that stage again. He slipped his hand onto a rail inside the elevator and leaned against it. Something pinched at waist level. He slipped a hand around his waist and realised there was a thin band of fat where there hadn't been a few months ago. Why was he putting on weight? Then he remembered how sparingly he'd eaten before the Buckets had arrived and realised that he hadn't compensated for the increase in 'real food' he'd been eating by reducing the amount of candy he'd 'sampled' from the factory. In fact, thanks to the number of inventions he and Charlie had come up with, he'd probably been eating more candy than ever. Willy scowled and jabbed the button for his private rooms.

Inside his bedroom, Willy removed the burgundy coat and black waistcoat and regarded himself critically in the mirror, pulling his shirt tight to examine the damage as he turned from one side to the other and back again.

"Not too bad," he muttered. "But I think it might be time to do some exercise." Half-an-hour later, Willy was heading down in the elevator to Fudge Mountain, dressed in full climbing gear.

Back at the Bucket house, Mr Bucket was still pouring over his paper.

"I see they're building new homes where we used to live," he called out to any of the family who might be interested. "And they're knocking down the old supermarket in Innsworth and building a larger one on the other side of town." In the background, Mrs Bucket nodded and carried on with her ironing, Grandpa Joe folding and hanging up the clothes as she progressed. "Hey – the circus is coming back to town!" Mr Bucket spread the paper flat on the table and pointed excitedly at the advertisement. "In October – just in time for half-term! We could take Charlie! He's never been to a circus – all the clowns and jugglers and…"

"And pretty girls on the trapeze," teased Mrs Bucket, poking her husband in the ribs. He squirmed and turned to pull her into his lap.

"Now why would I be interested in those silly little girls when I have you?" he asked, touching her nose with his. Grandpa George coughed from behind them and they separated, albeit reluctantly. Mr Bucket continued reading. "They're here on the 26th and are not leaving until November 1st. We could go on Halloween."

"Even better, we could go on the 27th," said Mrs Bucket.

"Why is that better?"

"It's Willy's birthday." Mr Bucket considered this a few moments before answering.

"Are you sure he'd enjoy a circus?"

"Do you really think he's ever been so he can find out? Can you see Dr Wonka taking him as a child?"

"No… but I mean that he might not be ready. He's only been outside the factory a few times since our dinner with Dr Wonka and I'm not sure he's ready for something as crowded as the Big Top."

"Only one way to find out," said Mrs Bucket, folding a sheet.

"If you say so darling," said Mr Bucket, looking at the colourful advertisement and playing out different scenarios in his head, most of which involved Willy hiding in a forgotten corner of the circus ground within moments of arriving. "If you say so…"

"Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it's climbing we will go…" sang Willy breathlessly, clinging to a ledge and squinting behind the climbing goggles. He looked down. He blinked. "Was it always this high?" He breathed slowly to calm himself and headed upwards again, pulling himself onto a ledge with some difficulty. He was about two-thirds of the way up and only a handful of Oompa-Loompas had ever come this far up, most preferring to mine the lower slopes where the softer fudge was found. Willy froze as a chunk of fudge under his right hand broke off and tumbled down the mountainside below him. "This is not a good idea, this is not a good idea," repeated Willy as he pulled himself to a safe ledge and started screwing crampons into the sheer vertical surface in front of him.

Charlie stared out of the classroom window at the distant chocolate factory, vaguely aware that somewhere in front of him, RE was happening to his peers. He shook himself out of his daydream and grinned at John, who was sitting next to him.

"What are we doing?" he hissed.

"Hanukkah. What were you thinking of?"

"Just wondering what's going on in there right now," whispered Charlie. "I wonder what Mr Wonka's making or inventing and what the Oompa-Loompas are up to."

"Mr Bucket?" shouted a cheerful voice from the front of the room. "Perhaps you have the answer?" Charlie looked up and into the eyes of his nice-but-strict form tutor, who was also their RE teacher. He wasn't sure about the answer at all, because he had no idea what the question was.

"Um," started Charlie. Some of the girls at the back of the class started to giggle.

"Emily just asked why the Jews celebrate Hanukkah. Any ideas Charlie?" asked the teacher, knowning full well Charlie had not heard the question but giving him a second chance to answer it. Charlie panicked. I'm sorry Mrs Stubbs, he thought, but I wasn't listening. Hanukkah, Hanukkah, hang on? Didn't Mr Wonka talk about this ages ago? He'd been considering making gifts for Jewish parents to give to their children at Hanukkah… Something about lights lasting eight days and a temple – got it!

"Please miss, it's a festival celebrating the red- re- um…"

"Rededication," helped out Mrs Stubbs.

"Yeah – of a temple and also a miracle where oil-lamps kept burning for 8 days with only one day's worth of oil. The festival lasts for eight days because of this. I think." Phew, that was close, thought Charlie.

"Well done Charlie. Glad to see you've been concentrating," added Mrs Stubbs with a smile, but Charlie caught the undertone and put his head down to concentrate for the rest of the lesson.

Mrs Bucket heaved the joint of beef onto the table. Mr Bucket stood to carve it and threw a smile at Charlie, who was practically drooling with anticipation of a meal. The family chatted over the meal and it was only while Charlie was helping himself to more beef that Mr Wonka entered the house still dressed in his climbing gear, trailing icing sugar and with his normally pale cheeks flushed. He dropped most of his equipment outside the door and shook his head frantically to get out most of the sugar. Unfortunately, the combination of cold weather, exertion and thick icing sugar had turned into a thick hair gel that was having disastrous and somewhat vertical effects on the trademark long locks. Willy tried to smooth his hair down and gave up, obviously deciding he was too hungry to worry about looking like a dandelion clock striking two.

"Hi – could I join you?" he asked brightly. Mrs Bucket nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Willy pulled off his climbing gloves and walked over to the bathroom to wash his hands. He emerged after a few minutes with what looked like a new pair of purple latex gloves on.

"Why do you wear those?" asked Grandpa George.

"Habit," said Willy, sitting down quickly. He sighed happily as Charlie handed him a plate piled high with food, taking it with a grin and making a show of inhaling as much of the scent as possible.

"Willy?" started Mr Bucket, trying to get Willy's attention.

"Mmmm-hmmm?" answered Willy, gazing lovingly at his dinner.

"We were thinking of taking Charlie to the circus over half-term."

"When is half-term?" asked Willy, just before taking a huge bite of roast potato.

"October. The circus is here over that week and we were thinking we could all go. What do you think?" Mr Bucket glanced at his wife, who was biting her lip. Willy nodded and waved at the Buckets in front of him, apparently trying to mime 'have fun' as he frantically chewed at the potato.

"We will," said Charlie, "but it would be more fun if you came too." Willy raised an eyebrow as the Bucket family was silenced by this statement. Painfully aware of his chewing, Willy raised a hand for a moment's peace and swallowed loudly. He took a drink of the lemonade in front of him and looked at Charlie.

"You want me to go to a circus?"

"Yes – it would be great!" said Charlie.

"Do you realise how cruel some circuses are to animals?" responded Willy.

"This circus doesn't use wild animals. We checked," said Mr Bucket. "Besides, you use squirrels and cows here in the factory. And you eat meat," he added.

"I'm assuming this cow wasn't tortured on a daily basis and half-starved to death to make it growl at its so-called tamer," answered Willy. "My animals are never badly treated," he added quietly. "I'd stop using them if I thought they were." There was an awkward silence.

"I think they have horses in the show," said Mrs Bucket quietly.

"You see!"

"But they are the horses of the Devil's Coachmen, a Russian group of riders. They'd never badly treat their horses. And I think there may be some girls riding horses from the Spanish riding school," explained Mr Bucket, "and they're too expensive for their owners to ever consider treating them with anything other than the utmost care."

"Okay. So this isn't a cruel circus. But I'm still not going," said Willy, picking up his fork and trying to eat some more of his dinner.

"Why not?" asked Charlie.

"Because," answered Willy. Charlie was about to argue, but Mr Bucket shook his head to stop him.

"So Willy, what have you been up to today?" asked Mr Bucket, indicating Willy's appearance.

"I climbed Fudge Mountain," answered Willy, grinning a little.

"Wow!" said Grandpa Joe and Charlie together.

"Why?" asked Mrs Bucket. Willy was about to answer her, then thought about it for a moment. How would the Bucket family react if he blamed her cooking for his putting on weight?

"Because it was there!" answered Willy with a manic grin, tucking into his meal again. He knew the Buckets were exchanging glances above his head, but right now he was more concerned with the growling hunger in his stomach to care very much. Later, when Willy left to go back to his rooms, Mr Bucket put an arm around Charlie's shoulders.

"We've got over a month son. I'm sure that we'll wear him down in that time." They watched as a tired and full Willy Wonka wound his way across the meadow and out of sight.


	7. Happy Birthday to me

A month slowly dragged by. Every so often, the subject of the circus would be brought up and Willy would either pretend he couldn't hear the discussion or would refuse point blank to talk about the subject. Two days before Willy's birthday and the supposed trip to the circus, Charlie decided it was time for action. He waited until he and Willy were alone in the Inventing Room (the Oompa-Loompas were on a lunch-break) and sighed dramatically. He waited to see if Willy had noticed, but the great chocolatier was too busy fiddling with the gobstopper machine. Charlie heard him muttering under his breath and stepped a little closer to where Willy was laying flat on his back underneath part of the mechanism.

"Stupid thing's never worked properly since…" echoed Willy's voice from somewhere inside the contraption. "Aha! Got you!" Willy unfolded slowly and made his way out from the machine with a twisted, misshapen gobstopper in his hand. "Strike her up Charlie – she should be working now!" Willy patted the machine happily while Charlie restarted the mechanism. With a series of whirrs and clangs, the Everlasting Gobstopper machine sprang back into life. "One more month's testing and I think we can release them!" said Willy happily. Charlie took advantage of the pause to sigh again.

"I suppose so," said Charlie in the saddest voice he could manage. He stooped his shoulders and shuffled over to Willy, holding out his hand for the gobstopper. It was only when he sighed again as he disposed of the gobstopper down the waste disposal that Willy noticed something was wrong.

"What's up Charlie? Are you sick?"

"No, it's not that."

"Is it your parents? You can tell me you know, I can help." Willy was trying to do his sincere, responsible mentor look and Charlie laughed despite himself.

"No, it's not that either. It's you."

"Me? What have I done to upset you."

"It's more what you're not going to do," whined Charlie and turned around. His parents had tried pleading with Mr Wonka, then tried logic and reasoning, all with no effect. Charlie had decided it was time for psychological warfare, the lowest of all familial artillery.

"What?" asked Willy, wringing his hands. "Did I forget something? Can you tell the future and you forgot to tell me what I'm going to do wrong next year? Am I going to forget your birthday?"

"No, it's just that," Charlie sighed again, just for good measure. "I was really hoping we could all go out as a family to the circus because I've never been before and it would be so nice to have us all together. It's not your fault Mr Wonka, but I did so hope that you felt the same and that you wanted to do things together as a family. I guess I'm disappointed."

"With me?"

"A little. I thought you wanted to be a part of my family."

"I do – it's just that circuses…"

"What about them?" asked Charlie, looking up at Willy with his puppy-dog expression. He knew that his mother would have told him off there and then for trying to use his "cuteness" to win an argument, but Willy had never had to raise a child and had not built up the necessary defences. Willy visibly crumbled like cheesecake and gave a tired snort.

"Well, my father always disapproved of them and he hates 'carnies' as he used to call them. We never went and I do see his point – what kind of people travel around all the time? Never settling, never calling any place home – why would people do that?"

"I guess people are different – some people would wonder why you never leave the factory."

"I do too. Only the other week I went to visit my father!"

"I mean things like go for a walk, visit the cinema, go to a museum," Charlie paused, "or a circus."

"I suppose it's something I've never considered doing. If you'd like to go for a walk on my birthday, I'll gladly accompany you. Maybe at dawn when there's less people around," Willy added quickly.

"No, it doesn't matter," said Charlie, turning away and sighing again. "It's not the same." He shuffled the recipe cards in front of him, watching Willy out of the corner of his eye. Patience, Charlie, patience, he thought to himself. Finally, he saw Willy's face contort and heard a grunt of displeasure.

"Fine. We'll go to the circus. But as it's my birthday we're not staying long and we're leaving as soon as anything weird happens. 'Kay?"

"Okay – thanks Mr Wonka!" cried Charlie, turning and hugging his mentor around the waist. Willy was not in the mood and looked down, a little irritated that he'd allowed himself to be talked into the trip.

"I suppose you'd better go and tell your parents – I know they were going to get the tickets today." Willy disentangled himself from Charlie and moved to the door of the Inventing Room, opening it for Charlie. "Use the boat – and tell your parents that I'll be late for dinner." Charlie nodded and darted out of the door, skipping with glee. Willy waved as the boat glided off and then retreated inside the Inventing Room, sinking to the floor with his head in his hands. Comforted by the emptiness of the room around him, he whined to himself a few times before raising his head. "I can't do this," he whispered to the silence around him.

Two days later, Willy dragged himself out of bed and regarded himself in the mirror. He flopped back on the bed in disgust. He hadn't slept properly and there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Happy Birthday to me," he sang wistfully, "Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday dear Willy Wonkaaaaaa," he sat up and stared at his reflection. "Happy Birthday to me," he finished. He trudged to his bathroom for a shower and reappeared twenty minutes later wrapped in an enormous pink fluffy towel, his hair turbaned up in a similar but smaller towel. He sat down at his dressing table and cut at his fingernails, keeping them as short as possible. Then he combed out his hair before reaching over and picking up his hairdryer. He looked pitifully in the mirror. What would he do when his hair did turn grey? Was it worth dyeing it? What colour? Willy grinned as he imagined himself with violet hair. Maybe bright red would be better. He shook his head and turned on the hairdryer, grateful that the decision to dye would be delayed for another year. At least his face hadn't aged – he was sure that avoiding sunlight had been key in that lack of development. Finished at last, he applied a light moisturiser over his face and hands and slipped on a pair of latex gloves from the box on his dresser. He stood, towelled himself down and started to dress.

The Bucket household was unusually quiet as Willy walked towards it. He could smell bacon, but couldn't see any sign of life inside the house – even the double bed was empty where there should have been elderly people half-snoozing and half-complaining. He hesitated before knocking. The door swung open at his knock and Willy poked his head inside.

"Hello?" he called quietly. "Anyone home?" He took a few steps inside, unsure what to do. He was tempted to call out for the Oompa-Loompas, but his throat was dry as he was a little afraid at the lack of Buckets. "Please?" he whispered.

"SURPRISE!" shouted Charlie, right next to his ear. Willy felt his stomach drop and gagged with shock, staggering forward to a counter and spinning around. His heart hammering, Willy panted and stared at Charlie with wide eyes. Behind Charlie, outside the house, he could see Mr and Mrs Bucket giggling at his discomfort. Rallying magnificently, Willy stood up and gave a toothy grin.

"Well done Charlie – well done!"

"Happy Birthday Mr Wonka," said Charlie, hugging him around the waist and handing him a card and a small package wrapped in brightly coloured paper. Willy looked aghast.

"For me?" he asked quietly. "A birthday present?" He walked out of the house and followed Mr and Mrs Bucket around the far side of the house. Willy looked up and realised that the dining table had been moved outside and that the entire Bucket clan had been moved out for breakfast, Grandpa George looking decidedly unhappy about the arrangements. There was an extra guest at the table, someone who Willy thought would never have deigned to come to the factory.

"Dad!" cried Willy, momentarily forgetting the gift in his hand. He walked forward and half-hugged Dr Wonka, closing his eyes as his father hugged him back. They separated and Willy gestured around the room. "What do you think?"

"It's very… colourful, Willy," said Dr Wonka. "I'm impressed," he added, smiling and taking a drink of coffee. In truth, he was very impressed but thought that he'd leave the gushing compliments until later when he and his son could have some private time. "Here is your card," he said, producing a pale blue envelope from his pocket. Another card from the Bucket family completed the set, and Willy took care to read each one and place it at a strategic point around his plate so that he could see each card during breakfast. He'd never had so many, if three could be called many. Carefully, afraid to break it, he unwrapped Charlie's present. Inside the wrapping was a long, thin leather case that held a gold fountain pen, complete with purple writing ink. Willy bit his lip.

"Thanks Charlie," he said, tucking the pen-case into his breast pocket. "It's lovely."

"That's okay Mr Wonka – any time!" Charlie reached for some toast. "Are you looking forward to later?"

"Yeah, should be great." Willy glanced over at his father, who Willy could tell was suppressing a snide comment. He didn't blame the old man for hating circuses. He missed the glare Charlie received from his mother, who didn't approve of the way Charlie had convinced Willy to go.

"Of course, if you've changed your mind, it's okay," said Charlie, knowing it wasn't but giving Willy the chance to back out as his parents had instructed. It was only fair, as his mother had said, given that he genuinely seemed to be dreading the idea.

"No, I'll go with you all. Who's going anyway?" asked Willy, feeling he'd like to end this conversation before it put him off his food.

"Charlie, Michael and myself," said Mrs Bucket, gesturing to each person she named, "Grandpa Joe, you, and your father." She quickly bit into a slice of toast.

"My father is going to the circus with us?" asked Willy slowly, before starting to giggle. "Now I know you're joking! Heh – maybe it's a dream and I'll wake up and you know what? It'll still be February and none of this will have happened!" He looked at his father's face and his smile fell. "You're really coming aren't you?" he asked.

"Yes. I was invited. I assure you that I will try to enjoy myself," said Dr Wonka dryly, obviously dreading the prospect.

"Oh good," said Willy. It was shaping up to be an unusual birthday at least. He should have been dancing with joy at the present and cards – instead he was fighting a wave of depression as he thought about what would happen later that day. Giving one final look at his father, who shrugged sympathetically, Willy tried to enjoy his birthday breakfast.

The day went too quickly and soon it was 4 o'clock and time to leave for the circus. Willy had tried to convince himself it wouldn't be unfair to back out, but knew his father would not approve of his going against his word. Mr and Mrs Bucket loitered in the lobby with Grandpa Joe and Dr Wonka, who were chatting about (of all things) various pet dogs they'd owned in their lifetimes. Charlie was hopping from one leg to the other, trying not to appear impatient and failing spectacularly. There was an ominous creak from the door at the far end of the corridor and Willy strode towards them dressed completely in black. He drew level with his father and tipped his hat cordially before nodding at Charlie.

"Let's get this over with then."

"Mr Wonka, if you leave in that attitude you'll never have fun!" said Charlie, exasperated.

"Fine – lead on to the circus. A fun-filled extravaganza of delights I have no doubt," replied Willy, gazing back longingly at the chocolate-room door. He put his head down and followed his apprentice out of the factory. Dr Wonka lingered behind and beckoned to Mr Bucket.

"Are you sure this will help him get out more? He seems thoroughly miserable," said Dr Wonka.

"I hope it will. He doesn't like to mix with strangers so the only way to get him to meet new people is to force him into these situations. I do think we may have gone too far this time though." He shrugged. "What's the worst that could happen?" he asked with a grin, only to be met with a stern look from Dr Wonka, who stalked off.

"Kay," said Mr Bucket, following the dentist and realising there were now two people in the factory who couldn't say "okay" properly.

The circus was everything Charlie had imagined. As Mr Bucket handed over the tickets at the gates, Charlie took the time to have a look at his surroundings. There was a funfair on one side of the field where he could see rides running with brightly costumed helpers at every turn. To his right was a section of trailers – probably where the performers live, thought Charlie. In front of him was the huge tent of the Big Top. He could hardly wait and jumped on the spot in anticipation. He looked up and saw Willy staring open-mouthed at the spectacle, drinking in the strange and slightly scary atmosphere.

"Wow," whispered Willy.

"Isn't it great?" said Charlie, not really expecting an answer. "Wanna go on some rides with me?"

"Kay," answered Willy, not really listening and allowing himself to be dragged away by Charlie without really noticing what was happening. This wasn't the real world, thought Willy, this was something quite different. In the same way he had created a magical place inside a mundane factory, these circus people had created their own magic here in what had been the park. He shuddered a little as the unfamiliar atmosphere took hold and didn't realise someone had been speaking to him until Charlie gave him a nudge.

"What?" he asked abruptly, looking at Charlie.

"I said that you cannot wear the hat on this ride sir. Would you like me to hold it for you?" Willy looked at the speaker and was momentarily taken aback. He appeared to be speaking to a pink-clad fairy, complete with wings, who was looking at him with a mixture of concern and amusement. He smiled and nodded, handing her the hat and his cane without further comment. A blue fairy in the background whispered to a green fairy,

"Isn't that Willy Wonka?" Willy quickly turned away from the pink fairy and sat down next to Charlie, avoiding the fairies' enquiring eyes.

"You weren't having a flashback were you?" asked Charlie.

"No, just looking around. What are we on?" said Willy as two bars locked into position around his arms and waist. He felt a little panicked, closed in like this in a strange place. He didn't have time to worry about this however as the ride started and whisked him off to a world of upside-down, stomach-churning 'fun' that Charlie seemed to be genuinely enjoying.

Four rides later and Willy judged it safe to go and find Charlie's parents. He was a little shaky – not because he didn't enjoy the rides but because he had been fighting a feeling of nausea since entering the park and being tipped upside-down on rides he hadn't built himself was unnerving. Before finding Charlie's parents, Willy needed to retrieve his hat and cane. He walked up to the first ride he and Charlie had endured and coughed politely behind the pink fairy. She turned quickly, forcing Willy to jump back to avoid her long brown hair as it spun around. The pink fairy laughed and smiled at him warmly.

"Hey stranger, I was wondering when you'd be back." She reached down into the booth next to her and presented the top hat and cane with a flourish. "Are you staying for the performance in the Big Top?" Willy realised he didn't know and was grateful when Charlie answered for him.

"Yes, are you in it?"

"Yes – we," she indicated her fellow fairies, "are in the horse troupe." Willy gave a hysterical giggle and the fairy raised an eyebrow. Willy shut himself up and tried to remember his manners as he straightened his top hat.

"Have you been a fairy long?" asked Willy, shutting his eyes as he realised how lame that sounded. Thankfully, the fairy laughed in response.

"A few years. I have toured with the circus every year since I was twenty-five. I used to show-jump, but then I decided I preferred gymnastics on horseback to just riding around a course and jumping some silly sticks," she stopped and looked up at Willy, who was staring intensely at her. Neither said anything for a few moments until they were rudely interrupted by the arrival of the blue fairy.

"Hi there Mr Wonka – I love your chocolate!" bubbled the blue fairy, blonde curls bouncing as she wiggled up to them. "I'm Elaina – the head fairy in the show later." She twirled, showing off the sequins on her flounced skirt. Willy smiled and tried to look anything but scared – there was too much of the Mrs Beauregarde about this fairy for his liking.

"Helllo Elaina. Have you been a fairy long?" asked Willy, not really interested in the answer. To his annoyance, she found the question amusing and giggled girlishly.

"Yes! About twenty years – I started when I was two! My father runs the circus and I've always performed in it. I love my work – it takes you all over the world. I'm so pleased to meet you," she said without a breath, extending a hand. Willy didn't hesitate, but reached one hand to the brim of his hat and touched it lightly as he half-bowed.

"I'm very pleased to meet you also, Miss Elaina." He gave a polite, toothy smile that Charlie recognised. It was the sign to leave.

"Shall we go and take our seats Mr Wonka?" asked Charlie.

"Good idea. I shall see you ladies later," Willy added, spinning on his heels and striding off. Two steps away, he turned back to the two women, but then seemed to think better of it and followed Charlie to their arranged meeting place. Elaina giggled and turned back to her work, shortly followed by the pink fairy.

"She seemed nice," said Charlie.

"Hmm?"

"The blue fairy – Miss Elaina. She was ever so friendly."

"Yes, she was, wasn't she?" said Willy. He looked back over to the ride.

"Why wouldn't you shake hands?" asked Charlie.

"With who?" asked Mrs Bucket, linking up with Charlie and pecking his head with a kiss. Willy started – he hadn't realised the Buckets had arrived.

"Mr Wonka met a really nice lady called Elaina. She's a fairy!" exclaimed Charlie.

"I suppose she's pretty?" drawled Dr Wonka from behind Willy.

"She's okay," said Willy.

"She's gorgeous!" said Charlie, causing his father to roll his eyes.

"But it's not what you think," added Willy.

"I hope not," said Dr Wonka, causing Willy to hang his head. Of course he thought – no talking to carnies, and no talking to women. Broke both of the rules for the night in one fell swoop. Typical. Just when he'd been starting to relax as well.

"They've opened the doors," said Mr Bucket. "Shall we go in?" They turned and regarded the huge tent in front of them and set off as a unit for the evening show.


	8. An unexpected performance

**Thanks to TrudiRose and Aliquis – I was worried I may have been waffling, but I'm glad to see that you, Aliquis, wouldn't mind if I dipped a little further into the descriptive. Is my writing really simplistic? Oh dear, my old English teacher would be sorely disappointed. Darnit, I said I wasn't going to do author's notes didn't I? Oh well…**

* * *

A wall of noise hit the group as they entered the main tent. Willy gripped more tightly on his cane, relaxing only when Charlie tapped his hand and grinned at him. Willy relaxed his hands to his side and calmed himself down. He felt someone slip their hand into his and looked down at Charlie. 

"You sure about this?" asked Charlie, beaming all the while.

"Yeah. No problem," nodded Willy, relieved to realise that there wasn't. For the first time in a long while, he was enjoying himself outside the factory. He allowed himself to be dragged to his seat, ignoring the whispers from those people in the crowd who had recognised him from press photographs released back in February. So people were staring – let them look, thought Willy. None of them were going to think anything of his going to the circus, surely? That's what all normal people in town were doing, and he was a normal person, therefore he was here, socialising with his family. Despite his mental reassurances, Willy was still relieved to sit down between Charlie and Dr Wonka and face inwards to the ring in front of him, rather than have to look at the inquiring faces behind.

"Well done," said Dr Wonka. "You handled that well."

"Thanks," said Willy, exhaling. His hands were sweating inside his gloves and he tried to relieve the sticky feeling by wringing his hands together, creating some disturbing creaking noises. He was glad of the fact the seats they had managed to obtain were in the front row – at least he could pretend there was no-one around him. The smell of stale popcorn and – Willy realised with some disgust – other people was starting to close in all around him and he knew that the stench would cling to his clothing after tonight. Deal with it Wonka, he thought, you've eaten green caterpillars in a jungle full of foul-smelling beasts, surely members of your own species have to be less gross than that? He cast a sideways glance to a group of young children eating toffee apples. One child had managed to smear the toffee all over its face to the point where Willy was unsure if it was a boy or a girl anymore. He christened the child Blob and watched in fascinated disgust as Blob's mother pulled out a tissue, spat on it, and proceeded to wipe the toffee off Blob's face. "I'll take the caterpillars thanks," said Willy out loud.

"What?" asked Dr Wonka, confused and a little worried.

"Nothing," said Willy quickly, turning his attention back to the ring just in time for the lights to dim in the tent.

Nothing happened for a few moments as the crowd quietened. Then a spotlight picked out a lone acrobat, cartwheeling towards the centre of the ring. A drumroll started. There was a flash of sulphurous yellow light and a thunderclap and the acrobat turned into the ringmaster, complete with red frock coat, moustache, top hat and whip. Willy surreptitiously removed his own hat and tried to hide it in front of him while continuing to watch the ringmaster. A troupe of clowns arrived in the ring, circling and bowing to the short, moustached man who appeared to be laughing. Willy rested his elbows on the ringside in front of him and cradled his chin in his hands.

Music started and the clowns capered as only clowns can, taking pratfalls and play fighting to the amusement of the crowd around them. Three slim clowns appeared on tall unicycles, each one nearly twenty foot in height, spinning around the main ring at break-neck speeds. Willy watched as the centre clown vaulted upwards, abandoning his unicycle, which crashed to the ground with a metallic clatter. The clown spun upwards a few times then started to fall. From apparently nowhere, the other two clowns appeared underneath, the tumbling clown landing neatly on their shoulders. The crowd applauded appreciatively. On the ground, more clowns and acrobats were staging a series of stunts, vaulting over each other and starting to stack one performer on top of another. Finally, when two large pyramids, each of ten performers, had been created, the clowns collapsed the pyramids – the performers landing in a series of rehearsed rolls. A roar of a motorbike drew Willy's attention to the entrance to the left. A tiny motorbike, barely larger than a microwave, was being ridden towards him by a clown the size of the average Italian opera singer. Willy grinned at the sight and watched as the motorcyclist chased the other clowns around the ring. With the ring clear, the large clown performed a handstand on the tiny saddle and guided the bike out of the ring.

The spotlights shifted now to a single, thin pole stretching up to almost the top of the circus tent, set into the centre of the central ring without any real support. A skinny man backflipped towards the pole, flanked with a series of young women in costumes Willy felt sure his father didn't approve of. The skinny performer locked his legs around the pole and climbed quickly up it, causing feelings of vertigo in those members of the audience who feared heights. At the base of the pole, the women were still doing some kind of dance to distract the audience, but Willy's keen eye realised that every so often one of them would stop and check the security of the base of the pole before moving on without missing a beat in her dance. The skinny performer was still climbing and was now some ninety feet above the crowd and barely visible. Smiling, he started shaking the pole, spinning around it and causing the pole to sway violently from one side to the other. As the finale to his act, started swinging the pole in lower arcs, leaving the audience sure he was going to slip and send himself flying across all three rings of the circus. As expected at the very end of his act, the acrobat simply slid down the pole to a safe height and vaulted from it, landing in a bow to finish.

The ringmaster reappeared and bellowed into his microphone,

"That was Bello, on loan from the Nock circus of Switzerland! And now, ladies and gentlemen, if I could direct your attention to the tightrope above your heads, where we present Greta and Drusilla, the amazing funambulists!" The spotlights danced to a point high above the crowd where two young girls were already walking two tightropes while carrying long balancing poles. To the delight of the crowd, Drusilla threw her pole to the ground and started to perform carefully choreographed jumps and spins on the tightrope. Greta followed suit, both girls tumbling and jumping at amazing speeds to the heady beat of the dance music playing in the background. To a chorus of amazed sighs, the girls both jumped and landed on each other's tightropes. Swapping twice more, they bowed and paced on the ropes until two trapezes were lowered for them to latch onto. As the girls were lowered to the ring, the tightropes were cleared ready for the next act.

"And now, something to delight and amaze the child in us all!" announced the ringmaster. At his words, the music changed again and three pure white horses entered the ring, each being ridden by one of the "Fairy Ladies" Willy and Charlie had met earlier and each horse bearing a unicorn-style horn. The girls in the audience in particular sighed. The horses cantered once around the ring before separating and pacing sideways to the amusement of the crowd. The central horse, ridden by the blue fairy Elaina, reared up and pawed at the air with its hooves. As it lowered to the ground, Elaina stood on the saddle and gave a short curtsey to the audience before reaching for the reins and guiding her horse around the arena once more while still standing. Without warning, Elaina appeared to slip from the saddle and disappeared under her still racing steed. Almost as soon as she'd disappeared she'd completed the manoeuvre and was back in the saddle, having circled the neck of the horse. As she continued to perform such stunts in the centre, the pink and green costumed riders, both with identical brown hair and make-up, circled anti-clockwise and mirrored her movements perfectly, ensuring all members of the audience were treated to a view of the gymnastics they could perform. To finish, the three fairies pulled their horses together in the centre of the ring and reared them up, waving to the crowd.

"But I thought that fairies flew?" said the ringmaster from his spotlight. Three trapezes lowered and the women clambered aboard. As the trapezes raised again, black-clad helpers led the horses out of the circus ring and the music changed to a more sedate waltz music. As the women swung back and forth, occasionally dropping from one trapeze to the other and back again, Charlie leaned forward to where Willy was still leaning on the ringside and nudged Willy's arm.

"They're really good – Elaina is very pretty isn't she?" added Charlie with a grin.

"Yeah I suppose. They're all very good," replied Willy, distracted by the performance. He'd barely looked at the blonde-haired beauty Charlie was trying to get him interested in. Of far more interest to Willy were the pink and green-clad fairies, faces half-hidden by their make-up just as he had seen them earlier. Neither girl cold match Elaina for looks, both being rather plain, but he recognised that both of them were stronger than Elaina. She was the one who would drop from the trapeze, but they were the ones who could catch her and throw her as easily as if she were a rag doll. He tried not to be afraid of the muscles in their arms, realising he was a complete weed compared to these two women. It was these two who were turning the act into something well-worth watching, as opposed to the air-headed Elaina grinning inanely in the middle. Willy watched as the pink fairy swung out on her own, covering the length of the tent with each swing. Attention focused solely on her, Willy forgot about the other performers and even about where he was. All he could see was a fairy on a swing, smiling as she performed tricks, hanging alternately by her knees and her hands. Willy watched as she swung faster and faster, until finally she came to the highest point of her swing at the far end of the tent… and let go.

"No!" shouted Willy as the woman fell over twenty feet. He'd stood in shock and was almost over the barrier in front, mouth gaping at the horror of what he was watching. Then he registered that his father and Charlie were holding him back and that the pink fairy had been caught by the green fairy and was even now swinging back and fore above their heads. Heart hammering, Willy sat down and looked down at his lap. He held his forehead in his hands and tried to quell the torrent of tears that was threatening to fall. He could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment. How could he have been so stupid.

In front of the Bucket family, the performance had drawn to a close.

"And now, for our final trick, we need a volunteer," announced Elaina into a microphone handed to her by a helper. She circled the ring, smiling enthusiastically at the audience. She stopped in front of Charlie, looking with some amusement at Willy who was still hiding his face. "How about you sir?" she asked, something cold entering her smile as her gaze fell on Willy. He raised his head and met her eyes, shaking his head vigorously. She rolled her eyes and pouted to the crowd, who laughed. Something inside Willy died as he looked around at the laughing faces and he felt his old friend nausea return. Elaina beckoned to a group of clowns who ran over and made a show of picking up Willy roughly and carrying him across the ring while restraining Dr Wonka and the Bucket family who were shouting in protest. Terrified, Willy froze as the clowns deposited him on a podium and stood rigid as Elaina approached him. "It's the famous Willy Wonka!" shouted Elaina to the crowd.

"Bitch," muttered Willy under his breath. He was aware of two people, one on either side of him. He glanced down to his right and saw pink taffeta.

"She is sometimes. Don't worry, you'll enjoy this," said a caring voice to his left. He regarded the green fairy, for it was she who spoke, with some ridicule.

"No I won't," he stated. As the green fairy kneeled to fit Willy with some kind of harness, he shrieked. "What are you doing now?"

"It's to stop you falling if anything goes wrong," explained the green fairy.

"Fall? Wrong?" spluttered Willy.

"Are you alright?" asked the pink fairy, concerned now that Willy had turned a ghostly white.

"I don't do heights and I don't do touching," said Willy, looking down at the green fairy. "I really can't stand it – could you please stop because it's not your fault but you are strangers to me and I can't do this…" he babbled.

"Man, if you really can't cope with this it's not too late to back out," said the green fairy, backing off before she'd finished securing the harness.

"Yes it is," hissed Elaina, reappearing. "Scat you two." Obediently, the green and pink fairies backed off slowly.

"Elaina the harness…" started the green fairy.

"Scram." Both the fairies darted off, but instead of going backstage they signalled to the helpers that they were going up on the trapeze as well and each perched bird-like on a swing as it was raised into the roof.

"For this next trick, Mr Wonka and I are going on a little trip right to the top of the tent," announced Elaina, clutching onto Willy's arm with a vice-like grip.

"Aha," spluttered Willy, looking up at the tent roof, a black haze somewhere above him. His face contorted as he replied, "Do we have to? The ground is so gosh-darn nice?" He heard a chuckle from the crowd and saw the microphone in front of him where Elaina had held it deliberately to catch his reaction for the crowd.

"Now isn't that so gosh-darn cute?" she mocked into the microphone. The audience roared with laughter and Elaina pecked Willy on the cheek.

"Yeargh…" said Willy, closing his eyes. This was a mistake, as he missed Elaina mounting a trapeze swing behind her and was only made aware of the change when she called into the microphone,

"Drumroll please…" Willy opened his eyes, realised he'd been released and was about to dart for freedom when two clowns picked him up and seated him on the swing next to Elaina. Somehow, the painted faces of the clowns didn't look so friendly this close up. Willy looked at Elaina.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Willy Wonka on a trapeze with me?" grinned Elaina as the swing started to rise. "I'll be famous – the press are over there – look!" She waved to a group of photographers and Willy saw the flash of several cameras being set off. "Just hold on – you'll be fine."

Willy had no choice but to hang on as the trapeze rose higher and higher above the ring. He wound his left arm around the rope behind him, his right hand coiled tightly around the thin wooden bar he was perched on. He tried to ignore the fact the harness was loose as asking Elaina for help in tightening it around his waist and trousers was less preferable to dying at this point in the proceedings. The temperature dropped as they were lifted high into the roof of the tent. Willy felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up and looked down. To be truthful, heights didn't really worry him when he was high up somewhere safe, such as in his factory or elevator. The swing however, two pieces of rope and a wooden bar, together with its other passenger, was less than safe to his mind. He tried to remember a conversation with Mr Bucket about positive thinking. All he was actually positive of at the moment was the ninety foot of splat below him. At least I found an heir, thought Willy, not at all cheered at the thought.

"Now sit still Mr Wonka," instructed Elaina. "I've done this before you know." She reached down and prised his right hand off the wooden bar, guiding it to the rope behind her head. She leaned back into his arm. "Comfy?"

"Nu-uh."

"Oh well," she said. The trapeze lowered into the glare of a spotlight and the crowd "ahhed" at the sight of Elaina being 'hugged' by Willy. Grinning and waving, Elaina slipped backwards, catching the trapeze swing with her knees and waving upside-down at the audience. Willy jolted as the trapeze jumped with the force of Elaina's catch and nearly slipped off. He swallowed. This couldn't go on forever, he thought. He only had to hang on for another few minutes and it would all be over. Forcing himself to smile, trying to look as if he was enjoying this, trying to appear normal and not embarrass himself further, Willy wished he'd never agreed to come to the circus. Elaina spun back onto the trapeze and stood behind Willy, eliciting another round of applause. A drumroll sounded and Willy redoubled his grip on the trapeze, aware that something was about to happen. Two guide ropes had started swinging the trapeze from one side of the tent to the other, the cold air rustling Willy's hair as the tent blurred into a mess of colours below him. He sagged slightly on the trapeze, only vaguely aware that Elaina had stepped in front of him and was attempting to sit on his lap. He blinked and looked into her still-smiling face.

"You've been eating onions," mumbled Willy, catching a whiff of her breath. Elaina's smile faded and she pushed Willy roughly backwards to make room for her. She hugged around his chest as the crowd gave another roar of appreciation and Willy winced.

"What's the matter – never held a girl before?" Willy shook his head in reply, honesty seeming the only option here. "Do you prefer boys?" Willy's eyes opened in shock and his mouth gaped as he shook his head again. "Obviously not," drawled Elaina, forcing a kiss onto Willy's mouth. This was too much, regardless of how many people were watching and Willy reacted by trying to push her off him. This meant he'd removed his hands from the ropes and there was a sickening moment as gravity realised what was happening. As Willy pushed backwards on Elaina, she spun up one of the ropes and clung on for dear life. The reaction force sent Willy sliding backwards, the useless harness binding his legs together as he made a last-ditch attempt to grab the trapeze bar. He slipped further backwards, missed the bar with his flailing hands, and fell.

There are those who claim your life rushes before your eyes just before you die. This assumes of course that the brain has neatly stored your memories in a file ready to play during the last two seconds of life and requires a certain amount of precognition. In fact, all Willy saw as he fell was a series of images from the circus ring. The horrified look on Elaina's face. He heard a gasp from the crowd. His hand flashed in front of his face and an insane voice in his head commented that he might never see it again. He caught a glimpse of someone who looked like his father crying, but that couldn't possibly be real because he knew that Dr Wonka didn't cry. Someone was screaming – it might have been Willy himself. What an odd thing to waste breath on at a time like this, thought the little voice. And ever present was the background of golden sand which was steadily and rapidly coming closer.

"Oh well," said Willy, finding his voice and closing his eyes. He felt a thump and was overwhelmed by the smell of violets. Something solid was pressing into his front and there was a pain running through his side. So this is what death is like – I didn't think it would be violet-scented and soft to the touch, thought Willy. Hold on…

"Got you," panted a female voice. Willy opened his eyes and realised the world had turned pink. With hints of flesh-tone lycra. He looked down and although the ground was certainly closer than it had been a few moments earlier, it had a comforting far away look about it. He looked back at his rescuer.

"Hey Pink Fairy Lady, how's it hanging?" he asked, clinging onto what he hoped was her shoulder, vaguely aware that his legs were still dangling from the trapeze.

"Fine. I caught you – we're landing now," she strained. Willy glanced around and noticed the pain in his side was being caused by the woman's left hand digging into his ribs, her right arm at an awkward angle holding onto the trapeze behind her. His arms were wrapped around her shoulders and he was almost cradled in her lap. "Gods, you're heavier than you look."

"Should I go on a diet?"

"No, just bow and we'll be out of here. I'm so sorry – Elaina's never been one for listening." Willy felt the ground hit his feet and tried to stand, the harness wrapped around his legs and his general nervousness not helping. His rescuer wrapped an arm around his waist and looked up at him. "I know you don't like this, but you'll save face if we bow together." Willy nodded and they took their bows, the lights cutting out immediately to rapturous applause and hoots of delight from the audience. Helpers dressed in black rushed forward and picked Willy up, carrying him far more gently than earlier into the backstage area where a large woman armed with scissors set about freeing him from the harness. Behind them, the clowns performed their final act of the evening to round up the performance. The green and pink fairy ladies entered and Willy grinned.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"No, I'm sorry – we never should have sent you up there like that," said the green fairy. "It was my fault – I didn't secure the harness."

"I should have stopped her," said the pink fairy. Willy noticed a raised bruise above her eye.

"What happened?" he asked, pointing to the goose egg that was turning a dark purple.

"Oh, you did as I caught you," she laughed. "Your elbow I think." She sat down next to Willy, who shifted automatically away from her. "Not touching, see?" she smiled, raising both hands to show him. Willy nodded and lay back against the cushions behind him, sighing as he felt his back start to relax.

"I never should have left the factory," stated Willy, eyes closing as the events of the evening finally started to overwhelm him.

"Who are you here with tonight?"

"What's your name?" asked Willy, suddenly sitting upright.

"Rosanna. Rosanna Derby." She knew better than to offer her hand, so smiled instead. Willy returned the smile.

"Thanks for saving my life Ms Derby. I came here with my father, my heir and his family. They were sitting next to me."

"I'll try to find them," answered Rosanna, touching his shoulder lightly with her hand as she stood up. Withdrawing it quickly, she mouthed "sorry!" as she dashed out of the tent as the clowns finished off their closing act. Willy swung his legs around and stood up, looking around the dressing room he'd been deposited in. Apart from the scissors-woman, who was in the process of mending a costume, he was quite alone and took the opportunity to look around. The smell of grease-paint and discarded costumes filled the red-draped room around him and the bright lights from around the dressing tables had raised the temperature to an uncomfortable level. Willy sat at one of the tables and checked his appearance. His hair was ruffled up, but otherwise he looked none the worse for his ordeal. Smoothing his hair down, he wondered if Charlie or his father would have been able to pick up his hat and cane. He hoped so – a new cane would mean a trip into town tomorrow and he wasn't sure that was a good idea. In fact he wasn't sure that he was ever leaving the factory again, ever. Not even if the factory closed and he ran out of food. He'd starve first.

"Willy!" said a gruff voice from behind him. Willy stood and turned to see his father marching towards him from the ring-side entrance. The old man had obviously been crying at some point and Willy wondered why. He held out a hand to his father which was ignored as Dr Wonka pulled his son into a tight hug that Willy returned after a few moments, shocked to find his father was shaking. He peered around his father and saw that Charlie and Rosanna were walking in together.

"It was an accident – he should never have fallen, I don't know what Elaina was playing at," Rosanna was saying. Willy felt his Dr Wonka release him and watched as the towering dentist bore down on Rosanna.

"Of course accidents like this are going to happen if you insist on forcing members of the public into your shows!" snarled Dr Wonka. Rosanna looked like she might argue, but instead dropped her eyes to the floor.

"I'm sorry sir."

"Dad she did save me," said Willy.

"She wouldn't have had to if that friend of hers hadn't picked you out. You could have been killed."

"I'm sorry," said Rosanna again, starting to cry.

"But I wasn't killed, Dad, and it's thanks to her I'm still alive. If you want to be angry at anyone, be angry at me for not stopping them."

"You weren't capable of stopping them," snapped Dr Wonka. There was an uncomfortable silence, broken only when the ringmaster and Elaina walked in.

"I'm so sorry Mr Wonka!" cried Elaina, tottering over to Willy and wrapping her arms around him. Willy struggled and looked at Charlie and Rosanna for help.

"Get your hands off him girl!" shouted Dr Wonka. Not even a fool would argue at this point, so Elaina let go of Willy and backed off. Willy staggered back a little and looked sadly at Rosanna, whose head was bowed. He felt sorry that she'd been shouted at – after all, her and her green friend had tried to help him. And now his father was angry again.

"Please do not shout at my daughter sir," said the ringmaster.

"I will shout at any hussy who dares to harm my son!"

"It was an accident anyway," snapped back Elaina.

"Why him?" demanded Dr Wonka.

"Because…" faltered Elaina.

"Because he was there and he was famous – admit it Elaina," said Rosanna.

"Dr Wonka…" said Charlie, tugging at the dentist's sleeve.

"Shut your mouth Rosanna!" shrieked Elaina.

"You're lucky he's not the type to sue," said Dr Wonka.

"On what grounds?" scoffed Elaina, folding her arms. "He chose to come here and take part."

"And you failed to ensure his safety," finished Dr Wonka.

"No – she did!" said Elaina, pointing at the green fairy, who burst out crying and left.

"Dr Wonka!" insisted Charlie.

"Yes, boy, what is it?" blustered Dr Wonka, not taking his eyes off Elaina other than to shoot the ringmaster a murderous look.

"Willy's gone," said Charlie. They looked around and sure, enough, Willy had left the building.


	9. Hot chocolate

"Mr Wonka!" called Charlie, his voice echoing around the empty park behind the main circus ground. This was the third time that he'd run through the circus ground, urgently searching for Willy Wonka amongst the throng of people seemingly intent on getting in his way and blocking his increasingly futile attempts to find his mentor. "Where are you?" cried Charlie in desperation. Mr Bucket ran up behind Charlie, panting as he was out of breath.

"Don't run off like that – I don't need to lose you too," gasped Mr Bucket. "Perhaps we should go and meet at the gate – your mother and Dr Wonka may have found him." Charlie nodded reluctantly and allowed his father to lead him slowly to the park gates. They had sent Grandpa Joe back to the factory to meet Willy if he decided to run home and to send a message to the park if Willy turned up. Dr Wonka had insisted on staying to help find Willy and thus they had teamed up, Charlie with his father and Dr Wonka with Mrs Bucket, and split up in order to cover as much of the park as possible. It was dark however, both search parties realising that if Willy didn't want to found it would be all too easy for him to remain hidden.

Dr Wonka leaned against the gatepost at the entrance to the park and took a draught of breath. His legs were aching and he knew he couldn't keep circling the circus ground indefinitely searching for his son. Grim determination not to lose the boy had sustained him thus far, but the mind can only force the body to do so much. Dr Wonka cursed his age for the umpteenth time this evening and touched a hand to his rumpled forehead as he exhaled quickly. Mrs Bucket noticed the ashen appearance of his face and patted his arm gently.

"I'm sure we'll find him, Dr Wonka. He's probably already at the factory. Maybe you should take Charlie home and wait for him there." She tried to smile at Dr Wonka but fatigue and worry banished the smile before it had fully formed. "Michael and I will keep searching for him." Dr Wonka nodded briefly, turning over Willy's top hat in his hands, the cane tucked safely under an arm.

"We should never have brought him here."

"I don't think any of us could have anticipated… that happening," replied Mrs Bucket.

"I've never trusted these people," scowled Dr Wonka, glaring out at the crowd in general. "Why did I allow my only child to come here? Why?"

"I'm sorry. It was our idea and he – he didn't want to disappoint Charlie." Mrs Bucket hung her head and tried to look hopeful. "He'll be fine. He's been all over the world – he can cope with a park less than ten minutes walk from the factory."

"I hope so," said Dr Wonka evenly, effectively killing the conversation. He was trying not to blame the Buckets for this mess, but his patience was wearing and he knew that if Willy didn't turn up soon he was going to lose his temper. His mood was not improved by the arrival of Charlie and Mr Bucket without Willy. Mr Bucket shook his head and Mrs Bucket linked arms with him.

"We'll stay here and look out for Mr Wonka. Can you take Dr Wonka home, love?" asked Mrs Bucket, winking at Dr Wonka as she spoke to her son. Charlie looked as if he was about to protest, but took Dr Wonka's hand when it was offered and guided the old man out of the gates.

"What now?" asked Mr Bucket, when Charlie and Dr Wonka had disappeared from view.

"We keep looking. We'll have more luck if we split up."

"Meet you back here in half an hour – and be careful!"

"Will do." They hugged quickly and set off in different directions to search for Willy.

Willy Wonka slowly opened his eyes and looked straight ahead at his knees. He was sitting between two of the caravans off to the right of the main tent, curled into himself with his knees drawn up to his chest in an effort to make himself as small as possible. Silent tears ran down his cheeks and Willy uncoiled one arm from around his knees to wipe at his eyes with his sleeve. The shock of the evening was finally kicking in and now that he had no audience he felt it safe to cry and fall apart a little. No-one would find him here. Maybe he'd sneak home later – the others would have gone home ages ago anyway. He'd just stay here a little longer…

Charlie sniffled a little as he wondered where Willy could have got to. He looked up at Dr Wonka.

"Do you think he will be at the factory, sir?"

"I hope so Charlie," replied Dr Wonka, giving Charlie's hand a squeeze. He stopped walking when he noticed fresh tears in Charlie's eyes. He crouched in front ofthe boyand lifted a hand to gently brush a tear from Charlie's cheek. "What's wrong?"

"It's all my fault!" wailed Charlie. "I tricked him. He thought he would really upset me by not going, but I'd have understood and instead of telling him that I… I…" Charlie gulped and hiccuped into tears.

"I know, son, don't worry." Dr Wonka pulled Charlie into a hug and stroked his back gently. "We've all pushed Willy to leave the factory and perhaps something like this was inevitable."

"I don't want anything to happen to him!" wept Charlie.

"It won't. Your parents will find him," said Dr Wonka, reassuring himself more than Charlie.

"How?" replied Charlie, before collapsing onto Dr Wonka's shoulder and weeping some more, Dr Wonka trying to comfort Charlie with shushing noises and hugs whilst concealing the fact he was feeling just as distraught as the young boy. Eventually, Charlie calmed down and the pair slowly trudged back to the factory, hoping and praying that Willy Wonka would somehow already be there.

Rosanna plodded back to her caravan, trying to shake off the waves of guilt that insisted on washing unrelentingly over her. It hadn't been her idea to put the section with a member of the audience into the show – that had been Elaina. It was also Elaina's fault that Mr Wonka had been chosen and embarrassed into taking part. And yet, in the argument that had followed the discovery of Willy's sudden departure, Dr Wonka had blamed her just as much Elaina. She had offered to help to find Mr Wonka, but had received a sarcastic and spiteful reply from Dr Wonka for her efforts. On top of that, she'd fallen out with the ringmaster who had blamed her for the mistake with the safety harness and implied that she'd been trying to steal Elaina's limelight by rescuing Willy Wonka. She'd tried to point out that if she hadn't helped, the ringmaster would now be facing charges of manslaughter, but to no avail. Elaina's fun had been spoiled and her father was determined to find someone to blame and take it out on. Rosanna shook her head and hopped up the stairs to her caravan, unlocking the door and slamming it behind her as she headed into the shower. One day she'd leave this circus. It wasn't as if she didn't have anything to fall back on – her parents had left her a decent amount of money that she'd come into a few years earlier and if she did quit the circus she had enough to survive on for some time. It was this thought that always helped her to cope with Elaina's hissy fits, or "Princess Moments" as Rosanna had christened them. Feeling the warm water slowly wash over her body, Rosanna tried to relax, tried to convince herself that everything was alright, and tried to pretend that she knew Willy Wonka would be fine.

Mr and Mrs Bucket continued searching around the site until long after the rest of the circus's audience had departed. They were finally forced to abandon their search at one o' clock, when the ringmaster told them he'd be locking the gates and that they were welcome to return in the morning. Mr Bucket tried to protest, but was ushered from the site by two large men who would not have been out of place at a nightclub bouncers' reunion. Looking forlornly at the gates, Mrs Bucket sighed heavily.

"What are we going to tell his father, Michael?"

"What are we going to tell Charlie?" said Mr Bucket, linking his arm into his wife's and escorting her back to the factory.

Rosanna untied her dressing gown and fussed to get her nightdress into a more comfortable position. She relaxed back onto her bed and slipped a CD into the player next to her, not for the first time wishing that she had a better music system. Drifting slowly to the music she almost missed a sharp sneeze from outside. Almost. Turning off the music, she opened the window above her bed and stuck her head out, listening carefully to the chill air around the caravan. It was almost too quiet; the stillness of someone trying not to make a sound as opposed to an empty silence. She strained to hear anything more and bit her bottom lip. If someone was sneaking around her caravan, she was damned if that someone was going to catch her later when she was asleep. She might live and eat with the circus people every day, but that didn't mean that she trusted all of them. The majority of performers had come from circus schools or, like her, out of competitive sport, but there were those that were of the type described by Dr Wonka as 'carnies' – those undesirables who, for whatever reason, had decided a life constantly on the move was more beneficial to them than staying too long in one place. Rosanna yawned loudly and gave an exaggerated stretch in case she was being watched.

"Bloody noisy hedgehogs they've got here," she said loudly, and paused. On the edge of hearing, she heard a stifled snort of laughter from the front of the caravan, which was to her left. Got you, thought Rosanna. She put the music back on and left the window slightly open so that the sound would drift out. Creeping behind the closed curtains, she picked up her heaviest pan and slipped the bolt on the door of the caravan as quietly as possible. She sneaked down the steps and edged along the caravan to the front, frying pan poised to strike. Making the decision to surprise the would-be assailant, she pounced around the corner. "Ha!" she said triumphantly, ready to bring the pan crashing down onto the skull of whoever was crouched in front of her. A ginger cat blinked at her in the haze of the lights from the caravans. "Cats don't laugh…" said Rosanna slowly, hefting the frying pan and circling around the tow bar. A small figure was sitting awkwardly in the shadows, pressed as close to the caravan as possible and barely visible in the gloom. "Can I help you?" she asked, waiting for the figure to move.

"No, I'm just sitting here with all the other hedgehogs," replied a quiet voice, pain etched in every syllable. Despite the fact the voice betrayed a great sorrow, Rosanna recognised it from earlier that evening.

"Mr Wonka?" she asked, scarcely believing it herself.

"Hey there," replied the same, flat voice.

"What are you doing there?"

"Hiding."

"You picked a good spot. Your family couldn't find you – I assume they've left the park by now."

"Oh." Willy looked up, his face concealed by shadows. "Are you making pancakes?"

"No," said Rosanna, laughing despite herself. "I thought you were someone else. Why, are you hungry?"

"A little."

"Come inside, I'll make you something before you go home."

"There's really no need."

"Don't be silly. Come on now – you can't stay there." She offered her arm to help him stand, but he withdrew a little further. "Okay – just follow me then." Rosanna stepped back, waiting for Willy to move. "I promise you won't be hurt – Elaina isn't here." She saw Willy flinch and then uncoil a little, his left arm reaching up for the tow-bar to help him stand. Unfolding, Willy slowly came to standing, staggering a little as he shook out the cramp from his legs. Without speaking, Rosanna led the way around her caravan and paused in the doorway for Willy to catch up. Rather than argue with him, she turned the lights on and left the door ajar so that he could enter in his own time. A few moments later, Willy entered and turned left into the caravan, looking down at the floor.

"Hi," he mumbled in greeting, shutting the door.

"Make yourself comfortable, Mr Wonka," said Rosanna, gesturing towardsa sofa. Willy nodded mutely and took a quick glance around the caravan. It was very cramped, the two sofas tucked under two bunk beds. The kitchen area was tiny, a table leaning against the counter to serve as joint breakfast bar and desk. A room to the right of the main door led into the shower room and bathroom. The decoration was from the school of "if it's cheap, it'll do" interior design and if there was any colour co-ordination, it was well-hidden behind plain pastels and clashing bright blues and greens. He sat down, taking care not to bang his head on the overhanging bunk. "What would you like to eat?" asked Rosanna, brandishing the frying pan.

"Nothing thanks. Could I have a drink?"

"Of course. Hot chocolate?" she waved a tin of Wonka's Heady Hot ChocolateSupreme Flakes. Willy half-smiled and nodded. Rosanna clattered in the cramped kitchen, setting a pan ready to boil the milk, taking a moment to tie her long hair back so that the gas didn't catch it. Willy tried not to watch her and glanced around the caravan again. He saw that there were rosettes pinned to the wooden slats of the bed opposite him. Leaning over, he read some of the ribbons. Each of the rosettes was associated in some way with stunt riding, probably the gymnastics on horseback competitions she'd mentioned earlier, thought Willy. Many of the ribbons were in English, but there were a considerable number in other languages. None of the ribbons was more recent than seven years earlier however, leading Willy to guess that Rosanna had quit competition riding at that time. He was in the process of counting up how many first and second place rosettes she'd picked up when there was a polite cough from behind him. "Here you go," said Rosanna, handing him the chocolate.

"Thanks," said Willy, sitting back down. "Are all of those yours?" he asked as Rosanna sat on the sofa opposite him, discretely pulling her dressing gown around her.

"Yes. I used to be quite good."

"I can see that," said Willy, sipping at the chocolate and letting it slide slowly down his throat like liquid silk. "Mmm," he moaned appreciatively, closing his eyes to savour the taste. He opened them again as Rosanna gave a short chuckle. "Why are you laughing at me?"

"I'm not – it's just nice to see you relax," said Rosanna, her smile fading. She'd meant nothing by that giggle and didn't want Willy to be offended.

"Oh, 'kay, guess that's not too weird," he said, swallowing nervously. During the silence that followed, Willy's expression changed from relaxed to blank and then to pained.

"What's wrong?" asked Rosanna. When Willy didn't answer, she sank to her knees next to Willy's feet and laid a hand softly upon his arm, hoping it wouldn't hurt him further. She repeated the question and gently removed the mug from his trembling hands.

"I'm scared," whispered Willy, his dark violet eyes brimming once again. Rosanna quickly snatched a tissue from the box next to her bed and handed it to him.

"Don't be scared," she whispered back. Willy buried his face in the tissue and shook some more.

"Father always said that boys shouldn't cry," he said, trying to calm himself.

"All boys cry at some point," answered Rosanna. "Don't hold it in – you'll be more upset later if you do." She stroked his forearm slowly, offering what comfort she could whilst bearing in mind his dislike of being touched. She heard a sharp intake of breath and was relieved to hear soft sobs from behind the tissue. The sobs gained in volume until Willy was wailing into his hands, tears pouring into the tissue. Rosanna subtly reached for the box of tissues and slipped a new one into Willy's hand. As the wailing continued, Rosanna bit her lip nervously. Elaina had gone too far this time, she thought. This man was clearly distraught at the evening's events and what had Elaina done to help? Whinge that her performance had been spoiled by "That weirdo, with Rosanna's help of course." Rosanna couldn't help but think that Elaina only considered Willy a weirdo because he'd reacted so violently when she had tried to kiss him. Can't blame him for having some standards, thought Rosanna. Snapping her attention back to Willy, she looked at him. The wails had subsided into a low moaning now. Not caring if he pushed her away, Rosanna stood, turned and sat next to Willy, draping her right arm around his shoulder and pulling him into her, using her left hand to stroke his right arm as before. She felt Willy tense up a little and patted his shoulder gently. "Hush now," she whispered. "No-one can get you here. You're safe." She stroked the soft, black, velvet coat and felt some of the tension dissipate as Willy stopped moaning and relaxed his shoulders. Eventually, she heard a snuffling and pulled back so that Willy could straighten up.

"I'm so sorry," gulped Willy.

"Don't be," said Rosanna, meeting Willy's gaze. Dark red circles had formed around his eyes and his face was flushed. She locked her gaze to his eyes, her brown eyes scanning his for signs of what to do next. Unthinking, she raised a hand and wiped a tear from Willy's cheek. Startled, Willy tried to stand up and cracked his head on the bunk above.

"Oh!" cried Willy, unable to say anything else. He staggered a little and collapsed onto the floor.

"I forgot – sorry, that was my fault!" She flapped around a little before kneeling next to him. "You okay?"

"No…" groaned Willy, closing his eyes. "I want to go home."

"I'll walk you."

"There's really no need," he replied tersely, standing with some effort. "Ouch."

"You'll need me to get through the gate. Why don't you freshen up first?" she waved towards the bathroom door. "I'll be outside when you're done."

Five minutes later, Rosanna was standing outside her caravan with a long coat thrown over her nightdress, her enormous walking boots on her feet. She would have taken more effort to dress if she thought anyone would see her, but as it was well past two in the morning she doubted very much that anyone in town would still be awake. Willy emerged from the caravan looking slightly more like his usual self.

"Let's go," said Rosanna, heading off towards the path.

"Wait," said Willy. He walked up to her slowly, met her eyes, and smiled. "You forgot to lock your door. You know, home security is very important these days," he said quite seriously. Rosanna faltered, then shook her head and gave a small smile. She reached into her pocket and drew out her keys, crossing to and locking the door of the caravan as quickly as possible.

"Better?" she asked Willy.

"Yep. Now we can go," he said brightly, turning back to the path and freezing. "Which way is it?"

In less than two minutes, Rosanna had guided Willy to the exit of the park and convinced the gate security to let them both out.

"I'll be back within half an hour, Malcolm," she shouted back.

"You'd better be, or I'm locking you out for the night," mumbled the guard, lowering his cap over his eyes and settling back down to sleep.

"Sorry about Malcolm – he's really nice, but dreadfully grumpy when you wake him up in the middle of the night."

"I see that," drawled Willy. They walked on a bit further before Willy added, "You didn't have to come with me to the factory you know."

"I know. But you might have a concussion and get confused or lost and then I'd never forgive myself."

"Yes you would," said Willy, speeding up as the factory gates came into sight. Rosanna decided not to argue. They continued in silence until they reached the gates. "This is my stop," said Willy, looking down at Rosanna.

"Yeah. It was nice meeting you Mr Wonka, even if it wasn't under the best of circumstances."

"Likewise, Miss Derby," said Willy, making to touch the brim of his hat and then realising he wasn't wearing it. He paused a moment and held out his hand to Rosanna. She looked at it for a second and then moved her eyes upwards to meet Willy's gaze. Tentatively, she reached out a hand and grasped Willy's gloved hand, suppressing a laugh at the creak of the rubber. "Thanks for the hot chocolate."

"You're welcome." Rosanna was aware that they were still holding hands and tried not to think of that fact. Meanwhile, Willy had reached behind him and hit a small button on the gate in order to summon someone to come and open the gate.

"You're going to have to walk home alone aren't you?" said Willy.

"I'll be fine. I've walked in worse places. And there's no-one around. Malcolm's expecting me back and, grump as he is, he would come and look for me if I didn't go back."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes – thanks for your concern, Mr Wonka."

"Willy. It's Willy to my," he paused before continuing, "friends."

"Am I your friend?"

"You saved my life and saw me cry. That's closer than most people get," cracked Willy with a smile. He looked down and realised that this was true.

"I'm truly sorry for what happened."

"It wasn't your fault," whispered Willy, hand half raised to smooth a curl of dark hair out of Rosanna's eye before stopping himself. Thankfully, she hadn't noticed. He felt an ache at stomach level and sincerely hoped that he wasn't going to be sick. Staring at her again, Willy took note of the way her nose was hooked slightly to one side and how her eyebrows didn't quite match. There was a smile playing on her lips and Willy found himself returning it without the intervention of conscious thought.

"I wish I could believe that," replied Rosanna, stepping a half-step closer and sighing. She could smell the hint of chocolate in the brisk autumnal air, the light of the streetlights illuminating the early morning fog with an eerie yellow glow. He looks like a Victorian gentleman in that coat, thought Rosanna. Pity the hairstyle doesn't quite match the outfit…

"You will, with time," said Willy, lifting her hand with his and dropping his eyes to study her fingers closely. He looked back to her face and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it gently.

"Mr Wonka," started Rosanna, blushing.

"Willy," interrupted Willy.

"Willy, I…" continued Rosanna, closing the distance again. Whatever she was going to tell him was forgotten, however, as a metallic creak from across the courtyard interrupted her. Dr Wonka and Charlie emerged from the factory, both looking exhausted and their worry etched on their faces. The pair were flanked by Mr and Mrs Bucket. Reluctantly, Willy dropped Rosanna's hand and looked for one last time into her face.

"Thanks – I would never have got here without you."

"I'll see you around," said Rosanna, turning on her heels and running back towards the park. Willy watched her go, barely aware of the approaching sound of running footsteps from within the courtyard or the sound of Charlie shouting his name. As Rosanna disappeared from sight Willy turned and smiled at Charlie.

"Hey squirt."

"Mr Wonka, we were so worried! Are you okay?" rushed Charlie, opening the gates with a large iron key. Willy stepped inside and gave Charlie's shoulder a quick squeeze as he passed. Charlie locked the gates and ran back up the steps to Mr and Mrs Bucket while Dr Wonka continued his walk towards Willy. Meeting his father with a hug, Willy was surprised to see tears in the old man's eyes.

"I thought boys didn't cry," said Willy quietly into his father's shoulder.

"Some men do," answered Dr Wonka, pulling back. "Where were you?"

"I was scared and hid. One of the performers helped me."

"Is that the girl you were with?" asked Dr Wonka. When Willy looked surprised, his father shook his head. "I'm old, not blind."

"Yes – that was Rosanna. The Pink Fairy Lady. She found me and helped me to get home. She's my friend," finished Willy.

"I do hope not. It was very nice of her to bring you back, Willy, but she's exactly the same sort as that Elaina girl. Don't trust her and definitely don't see her again." Dr Wonka turned and headed back towards the factory.

"What?" said Willy, stopping in the centre of the courtyard and shouting towards the entrance of the factory. "But she helped me! She made hot chocolate for me in her caravan and everything!"

"Of course she did Willy. You're rich and famous and she's an ageing showgirl. Of course she made you a drink. I'm appalled you had the idiocy to enter her caravan," snapped Dr Wonka.

"It seemed rude to refuse," said Willy, taking his father's point. If it had been anyone else but Rosanna, he'd have agreed totally with Dr Wonka, but he couldn't believe that she was like that. Who else would have tolerated his screaming and crying if all they wanted was… that?

"It's of no consequence. The circus will be gone in a few days and her with it," said Dr Wonka, walking back into the factory. Willy stood shell-shocked for a few moments and then followed his father up the steps. He simply smiled when Mr and Mrs Bucket told him how pleased they were to see him home and ruffled Charlie's hair as he passed in order to avoid conversation. As Charlie giggled and flattened his hair, Willy swept into the factory and headed straight for the chocolate room, opening the door and inhaling deeply.

"Ah, that's better," he grinned, eyes closed. "It's good to be home."

"Would you like something to eat, dear? You've been out a long time," observed Mrs Bucket, drawing level with him.

"No, thank-you Mrs Bucket. I'm not hungry," said Willy, ignoring the pains in his stomach that branded him a liar. "I'm just tired and I'd rather head to bed. Sorry to have worried you all.Hello there,Starshine, calls Earth, gazing at the heavens above…" he bowed and walked backwards out of the room, turning and narrowly missing the doors to the elevator. His father was waiting inside. "Great," muttered Willy, pressing the button for his father's guest room and leaning against the wall of the elevator. "What have I done wrong?" asked Willy as the elevator jolted into life. He'd seen the look on the dentist's face and recognised it from his childhood.

"What happened tonight?" asked Dr Wonka.

"I told you. I was upset and didn't want to see anyone so I hid."

"Where?"

"Between two caravans. I started crying and lost track of time. Miss Derby found me and invited me into her caravan for food, but in the end I just had a hot chocolate. Then I banged my head on the bed and we headed home."

"You banged your head…" said Dr Wonka.

"On the bed, yes, what?" demanded Willy.

"What were you doing on the bed?"

"We were on the sofa, not the bed."

"We?" shouted Dr Wonka. "What were you doing on the sofa?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"I was crying and she was… she was hugging me," said Willy, drifting off. "I stood up and forgot the bunk was above me and smashed my head against it."

"Oh," said Dr Wonka. "My apologies." Willy looked over at his father and smirked.

"What did you think we were doing on the sofa?" he asked, innocently. He counted himself lucky that his father didn't know him well enough to recognise the glint in his eyes.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. Ah, my room," he said, too brightly, as the elevator stopped.

"Good-night, father," said Willy, ushering his father out of the elevator and pressing the button for his own room. Dr Wonka raised a hand to wave goodbye as Willy sped out of sight, his right hand raised in a light wave. He leaned back against the rail. "Like I'd tell you if we'd done anything gross anyway," muttered Willy. He wasn't a complete idiot – he knew his father was worried that Rosanna had led his precious son astray. "Can't you trust me father?" said Willy to the elevator wall. The elevator ground to a halt at Willy's room and he stepped out, discarding clothing carelessly as he crossed to his bed. Collapsing face-down into the pillows, Willy fell asleep with the light still on, dreaming dreams of spotlights and highwires, chocolate rivers and freezing fog, culminating in a strange dream where Willy was standing in the sugar meadow, brandishing a whip, whilst all around him Oompa-Loompas performed tricks under a sky full of pink fairies…


	10. The letter

Rain hammered down onto the roof of the chocolate factory, the noise echoing through the upper rooms and the water falling in torrents from the sheeted roof. In Willy Wonka's room the noise was subdued but the patter of rainfall against the window, slowly increasing in intensity, was enough to rouse Willy from sleep. Still face-down on the pillow, he woke-up mid snore and paused, wondering for a second what the sound was. He snorted and raised his head, bleary eyes staring at the headboard as he performed the usual early morning routine most of us go through after a long night – namely, who am I, where am I and what happened last night? Remembering the circus, he grinned as the performances flashed before him and grimaced as he remembered the Elaina incident. He smiled broadly as he remembered drinking hot chocolate in an ugly caravan with a woman who, for a change considering she was one of the females of the species, hadn't been that scary or gross. Pushing himself up he shuffled off the bed and grabbed for a dressing gown, glancing sideways into a mirror and cocking his head to one side as he regarded the tousled nature of his hair. He yawned and stretched, deciding a shower might be a good idea before going downstairs for breakfast.

A little while later, Willy trotted out onto the sugar meadow and strode towards the Bucket household. Twirling his cane and skipping along in his red frock coat, he was every bit the contented chocolatier. Only Charlie, as Willy drew level with the house, thought something was amiss.

"Good morning Charlie!" cried Willy. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thanks Mr Wonka."

"Is it too early for breakfast? I can't smell bacon," said Willy, sweeping past Charlie and sticking his head through the open door. Three pairs of eyes turned to regard Willy as he turned his head back and fore to take in all of the house. "Where's Mrs Bucket? I'm hungry," said Willy.

"That's unfortunate," said Grandpa George. "Especially as she and Michael have gone out for the day."

"Where's Grandpa Joe?" asked Willy.

"Off talking to your father." Willy nodded and headed out of the door, grinning slightly at Charlie. "Guess it's just us then. I suppose I'll have to cook. 'Kay – what do you want for breakfast?"

"Um, M-M-Mr Wonka," stammered Charlie.

"Now Charlie, what have I told you about cannibalism?"

"No! But Mr Wonka, it's nearly two in the afternoon." Charlie smiled and laughed as Willy's face went through a full range of expressions before settling on disbelief.

"Don't be silly, I always wake up early in the morning. As I have only just woken up, it must be morning. Therefore, it must be breakfast time. And your mother is most remiss to have forgotten to make me breakfast. I'm most disappointed." Willy looked ahead with an arrogant sniff, his lips pursed. Charlie watched as Mr Wonka tried to hold the offended look, fascinated by how long the chocolatier could hold the extreme faces he was capable of pulling. Willy gave a sideways crick of his neck and rotated his head back to perfect upright, folding his hands over the top of his cane and glancing down at Charlie, who giggled behind his hand. Willy raised his eyebrows, causing Charlie to burst out laughing. Cracking a smile, Willy leaned over and whispered into Charlie's ear, "Ready for some inventing?"

"What about 'breakfast' – aren't you hungry?"

"Ah yes, there is that slight problem." Willy leaned over and snapped a twig off a nearby liquorice tree, biting the end and shrugging at Charlie. "It's food. Of a sort," he admitted, chewing the liquorice and swallowing, the sugary coating reacting with his stomach acid and making him even more hungry than before. His stomach growled in protest.

"Why don't we just get the Oompa-Loompas to bring some food to the Inventing Room?"

"Charlie – that's too dangerous!" said Willy. "Don't you know you should never eat food in a laboratory!"

"Well, yeah, my chemistry teacher is always harping on about it…"

"And quite right too! What if a few drops of the blueberry pie mix got onto a ham sandwich!"

"I hadn't thought of that – I could end up a giant blueberry!"

"I meant that it would taste dreadful, but now you mention it…" Willy appeared to be considering this and stared off into space for a moment. Charlie was never sure if Willy was telling the truth at moments like this and always found the sanest course of action was simply to wait quietly until Willy had finished. "No, very unlikely. It's only when the mix is added to the gum base that the side effect occurs. I think. Anyway, let's go find… lunch? Is it too late for lunch?" As Willy wandered off, muttering to himself, Charlie followed, shaking his head but grinning broadly.

A little later, lunch having been found in the factory canteen (a room Charlie thought Willy would have forgotten to build andthe sight of nearly two hundred Oompa-Loompas eating in a room capable of seating twice that number startling him), Charlie and Willy headed for the inventing room. They had barely set to work readjusting the Three-Course-Meal-Chewing-Gum machine when Willy put down his screwdriver and stared off into space. Charlie ignored him for a few minutes, then curiosity got the better of him and he cautiously approached Willy, expecting him at any moment to snap out of the flashback and demand to know why Charlie was staring at him.

"Mr Wonka?"

"Hmm-mmm?"

"Oh, you're not having a flashback!" said Charlie, noticing the focused look in Willy's eyes for the first time.

"No. Could I ask you a favour?"

"Me? Yes Mr Wonka, what is it?" Charlie watched as Willy paced around the gobstopper machine, pausing every other step for half a second before continuing.

"I would like you to deliver a message."

"To who?"

"Miss Derby." Willy stopped pacing and stared into space for a moment and grinned, not seeing the surprised look on Charlie's face.

"You want me to go to the circus on my own?" asked Charlie in disbelief. "What would Mum and Dad say?"

"Ah. Good point." Willy paced some more, stopped, and crossed to a desk. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the gold pen Charlie had bought him, scribbling a note on a sheet of paper from the desk and slipping it into a gold envelope plucked from a stand. Willy paced the room three more times, turning the envelope over and over in his hands. As he started a fourth lap, Charlie got a brainwave.

"Mr Wonka – if you show me how to drive the elevator, I could use it to take the message."

"No way."

"But if I'm going to run the factory, I'll need to be able to use the elevator! Why not today?"

"Because you are twelve years old and I'm not about to teach a child how to drive a flying machine!"

"But Mr Wonka, you can drive it!"

"I'm an adult!" said Mr Wonka sternly. His expression froze for a second before he blinked and looked concerned. "What did I just say?"

"That you're an adult."

"Weird. Anyway, the answer's still no."

"Why?"

"Because I'm driving. Piloting. Whatever. Come on – I'll drop you in the park and you can run give her the note." Willy picked up his cane and twirled it a few times, distracted by the spinning of the stick as he threw it faultlessly into the air and caught it with a flourish. "Coming?"

In fact, when Willy landed the elevator near to Rosanna's caravan he barely had time to allow Charlie out of the elevator before it was surrounded by amazed visitors to the circus. Pinned inside the glass, Willy pressed the "Lock Doors" button and regarded the people around him.

"You can't get me, you can't get me," sang Willy in a high voice. Some people had pressed themselves against the walls, gawping as they tried to get a better look than their neighbour at the reclusive chocolatier. Thinking of an idea, Willy gave an evil grin at the crowd, waved one hand, tipped his hat, and hit the "Fire Base Thrusters" button. The elevator gave a roar and thrusters under the floor lifted it up, the crowd backing off thanks to the down-force generated. Willy set the elevator to hover about thirty feet from the ground, humming to himself quietly as the crowd went crazy below him, his eyes fixed on Charlie.

Charlie knocked on the caravan door. When there was no answer, he almost gave up on his mission but then noticed a gap between the bottom of the door and floor. He leaned over, posted the envelope, and breathed a quick sigh of relief. Despite his dramatic entrance to the park, the crowd was far more interested in the elevator than in Charlie and he'd slipped past them easily. Now he just had the problem of getting out of the circus ground undetected. He and Willy had already agreed that it would be too difficult to get Charlie into the elevator after posting the letter, so Charlie headed for the entrance to the park, waiting for the pre-arranged diversion to allow his easy exit.

Willy steered the elevator to the park entrance, noting that Charlie was lurking behind Malcolm the gate-guard at a safe distance. He waited until he had Malcolm's full attention, then cut the power to the thrusters, sending the elevator crashing downwards towards the street below while Charlie, expecting this, ran straight through the gates and pelted towards the chocolate factory up the street. Moments before hitting the ground, Willy re-activated the boosters and grinned at Malcolm as the man shook his head in disbelief at the elevator, now hovering less than a foot from the ground. With a final wave at the astonished crowd, Willy headed back to the factory to meet Charlie.

"So we thought, we've never actually tested the apple pie dessert with creamso why not? And do you know something, it works!" said Willy, grinning at Mr Bucket across the dinner table that evening.

"So, it was just blueberry pie that didn't?" asked Mr Bucket.

"No, none of the other desserts worked at all, but then we tried cream instead of custard…" started Charlie.

"And apples instead of blueberries…" continued Willy.

"And it works!" finished Charlie.

"I could abolish poverty! I could end starvation!" said Willy with a dreamy look on his face.

"Assuming everyone likes beef dinner," said a dry voice from the bed.

"Now George, this is a wonderful invention," replied Grandpa Joe.

"Fake food, that's what it is…" grumbled Grandpa George, muttering into his dinner about chewing gum. Willy and Charlie exchanged glances and grinned at each other.

"What else did you do today?" asked Mrs Bucket.

"Well, just as we got into the Inventing Room, Willy asked me to do him a favour and deliver a letter to…" started Charlie.

"The Nut Room!" interrupted Willy, glaring at Charlie. "The Nut Room, yeah."

"Why? Squirrels cannot read," replied Dr Wonka, sitting across from Willy with a frown on his face.

"Ah, but the Oompa-Loompas can. You really enjoyed wandering around the factory on your own didn't you Charlie?" said Willy pointedly, begging Charlie with his eyes not to correct him.

"Yeah," said Charlie, tucking into dessert and not looking at anyone.

"Hmm, okay," said Dr Wonka, exchanging a look with Mrs Bucket.

"What was the letter about?" about Mrs Bucket.

"I wanted to know if the squirrels were capable of shelling some extra nuts in time for Christmas!" answered Willy slowly, congratulating himself on the lie. "I'll need another five tonnes of Brazil nuts by the end of next week if I'm to get my new chocolates on the shelves in time!" He settled back into the chair, exhausted.

"What new chocolate? You haven't mentioned it," said Mr Bucket. Willy met his look with one of his own.

"I must remind you that Mrs Bucket has specified that there is to be no talk of business at the table," he replied, just as lights flashed behind Charlie's eyes.

"Just a hint…" said Mrs Bucket, suspiciously.

"Brazil and Walnut Nut Crunch Surprise Christmas Trees!" said Charlie, dramatically slapping a hand to his mouth. "Oh gosh, I'm sorry I told them Mr Wonka!"

"That's okay Charlie – but no more hints!" replied Willy, feeling tension drain from his shoulder blades.

"What's the surprise?" asked Dr Wonka.

"You'll find out on Christmas morning when you get a box of them for your present!" replied Willy with a brittle grin. Hmm, peanut brittle decorations, he mentally noted. Thankfully, the family seemed to buy this and Willy and Charlie were left in peace for the rest of the meal. At the end, Willy asked if he could have a quick word with Charlie outside the house. As they left, Mrs Bucket leaned over to her husband.

"What letter? To who?"

"He's obviously lying," said Dr Wonka. "Willy was never very good at it."

"I tried to call the elevator earlier and I got the "Out of Factory" sign flashed at me from the control panel," hissed Mr Bucket.

"We'll find out. The truth always comes out," said Dr Wonka, relaxing back. "I just hope he hasn't done anything stupid."

Outside the house, Willy hugged Charlie.

"Brilliant!"

"Not brilliant," said Charlie. "Hopeless. How are we going to invent a brand-new candy and get it out to shops within four weeks?"

"We'll do it. Somehow," said Willy, nodding slightly maniacally. "We'll do it. At least they're off our backs."

"Why don't you want them to know you sent a letter to Miss Derby? What was in it anyway?"

"I'll tell you later, but it's a secret for now, 'kay?"

"Okay Mr Wonka, whatever you say."

But Willy didn't tell Charlie what was in the letter later that evening, nor did he tell him all the next day. On the 30th October, Willy spent most of the day in the room he had called the "Lookout Tower" – the large, glass-domed room to the top right of the factory that had an unrivalled view of the town below. Charlie visited him a number of times to try and get him to leave, but each time Willy just muttered something about feeling under the weather and stared out of the window. Giving up, Charlie went out to meet his friends at lunchtime and didn't see Willy for the rest of the day.

On Halloween, Willy locked the door of the Lookout Tower, allowing only one Oompa-Loompa to enter and bring him lunch, spurning all other meals and even returning the lunch half-eaten. As Charlie left to go trick-or-treating at seven, he looked up at the Lookout Tower and saw Willy sitting on the floor, one hand pressed against the glass. There was a forlorn look on his face and he was staring in the direction of the park. Worried, wondering once again what Willy had written in the note, Charlie turned and ran to meet John at the corner.

The next morning was a Sunday and Charlie ran up to the Lookout Tower to call Willy for lunch at twelve o'clock. He was surprised to find the door unlocked and walked in slowly, concerned as to what he would find. Willy was standing at the window, looking a little rough around the edges. He looked as though he hadn't shaved for a day or two and he looked decidedly tired.

"Mr Wonka?" asked Charlie.

"Hi."

"Whatcha doin'?" asked Charlie, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"Watching the circus pack up," replied Willy in a dull voice.

"Oh." Charlie stopped rocking and stood still. "Mum says lunch is in half-an-hour and if you don't come down she's going to force the Oompa-Loompas to carry you down."

"She can't do that."

"You haven't seen my mum in a temper, Mr Wonka."

"Do I want to?"

"No." There was an uncomfortable pause.

"I'll be down shortly." Willy gave one final glance to the park and left the room. Charlie was a little shaken – he was sure he'd seen a tear roll down Willy's left cheek as he turned, but that could have been a trick of the light. Making his mind up, Charlie raced off after Willy and caught him at the entrance of the elevator.

"What was in the letter, Mr Wonka?"

"Oh that," said Willy. "I was just being foolish. I asked Miss Derby if she would visit the factory so I could thank her properly for helping me. I guess she didn't want to be friends with me after all."

"Maybe she couldn't come – maybe they wouldn't let her?"

"She could have sent a reply, Charlie. I suppose circuses don't teach manners along with juggling and tightrope-walking." Willy shrugged and forced a grin. "Don't worry about it. It was silly. I'll see you soon." With that, Willy pressed the button for his room and plunged downwards into the heart of the factory. Charlie watched him go and felt a little sad that Rosanna had disappointed Willy. Then something occurred to him.

"Great, thanks for waiting, now I have to walk back!"

Willy straightened the sleeves on his jacket and ran a hand over his chin.

"Ouch!" He let out a disgruntled sigh and glared out at the rooms as the elevator whizzed onwards to his own. He had expected Rosanna to turn up, especially after he'd said she was his friend. He didn't know why, but he had wanted to see her again and the most logical course of action had been to invite her to the factory. After all, anyone else would have positively _killed _to get a look inside the place. She got an open invitation and… turned him down flat. It's me, thought Willy. She didn't want to spend any more time than necessary with me. She probably regrets wasting the chocolate. As the elevator stopped, Willy resolved not to waste any more time thinking about her, especially as his father had predicted she would let him down. Guess the Old Man was right, thought Willy. He walked into his room and stood briefly at his mirror, regarding his reflection. "Gross," he observed, stroking his scant beard and trying to ignore his sunken cheeks and too-pointy nose. "To work," he said, stripping and heading for the bathroom.

Charlie winced as he heard his mother 'diplomatically' discussing Willy's absence from lunch with a group of five Oompa-Loompas outside. He finished draining the boiled potatoes and exchanged a look with his father. Both chuckled quietly as Mrs Bucket continued her tirade.

"I don't care if he's the boss – you tell him that lunch is on the table and if he's not here in five minutes there will be Hell to pay!" There was an eerie silence from outside, followed by another shriek from Mrs Bucket. "Don't just stand there grinning! Go and get him!" Charlie heard heavy footsteps approach the house and made himself look incredibly interested in the sprouts and carrots his father was draining. "That bloody man hasn't been out of his room all week," ranted Mrs Bucket as she entered, "got us all worried sick, won't eat, then when he gets ill who'll have to pick up the pieces? And Charlie back in school tomorrow, you'd think he'd have the decency to tell us what's wrong, it's not like we haven't listened before," she continued. Charlie considered telling his mother what was in the letter Willy had sent, but realised that now was probably not the best time to do so. He turned and decided that whatever the lamb had done in its previous life, it didn't deserve what Mrs Bucket was doing to it while carving.

"Would you like me to do that?" asked Dr Wonka, moving to intercept the carving knife.

"No! No I can do this," she said, lifting the knife and using it to point out of the window, waving it wildly as she spoke. Charlie tried not to laugh as Dr Wonka tactfully dodged the knife and tried to sit down without meeting the same fate as the lamb. "If he's not here, I really will be having some serious words with him." Charlie didn't doubt it for a second and was relieved when the sound of someone singing approached the house. His mother, oblivious to all but her own voice when mid-rant, continued. "To think that one trip to the circus could do this to him…"

"The sun'll come out, tomorrow," sang a reedy voice in the background. The Buckets (except of course for Mrs Bucket) and Dr Wonka carefully kept their faces straight as Mrs Bucket continued.

"I wish I'd never suggested the trip as a birthday surprise."

"Bet your bottom dollar…"

"But that does not give him the _right_ to shut us out like this."

"Clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow…" the voice was closer now and Charlie saw that Grandpa Joe and Mr Bucket were shaking with suppressed laughter.

"I understand he's upset, but honestly, anyone would think it was all our fault that the stupid girl picked him."

"When I'm stuck a day…"

"If he doesn't come and eat something, Charlie, you'll have to…" Whatever Charlie was going to have to do was never revealed, as at that moment Mrs Bucket realised what was wrong with her family. From right outside the door, they heard Willy continue singing.

"…just stick out my chin, and grin and say…" the door burst open and Willy entered, eyes closed in song, cane in one hand, top hat in the other, arms outstretched. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh," he held the note for a long time, opening his eyes as he did so and realising he was inside the house. The note dropped from high to low and then went out of tune as Willy saw Mrs Bucket's face. "I'm here!" he finished in his normal voice. "Sorry I'm late." Without a further word he crossed to the table and sat opposite his father, dropping a wink to Charlie as he glanced sideways. Willy said nothing more, looking around the table as he took in the sights and smells of the vegetables already in tureens on the table. Mr Bucket handed him his plate and Willy sniffed the meat, expecting the usual heady smell of beef. He caught the scent of mint sauce and froze. "Is this lamb?"

"Yes, why?" asked Mr Bucket.

"I don't eat sheep," said Willy, looking up at Mrs Bucket. When he saw the look on her face he looked back to his plate and mumbled, "I suppose I could make an exception…" he said, forcing a forkful into his mouth and feeling like a murderer. As he chewed, he was relieved to see that normal conversation had started, although he tried to avoid Mrs Bucket's face as she was still glaring at him slightly. After five more minutes of this, Willy slammed his fork down and glared back.

"Can I help you?" asked Mrs Bucket as a hush descended on the table.

"I was wondering what I'd done to offend you," said Willy.

"I suppose worrying us by running off on your birthday and then hiding in your room for nearly a week afterwards doesn't ring any bells?" snapped Mrs Bucket, rising slightly from the table.

"Yes it does," said Willy, standing to meet Mrs Bucket's death-glare. "Although, I fail to see why my actions should affect you in any way."

"You're family now and what you do affects us all," said Mrs Bucket, gesturing at the rest of the diners.

"What?" said Willy, the angry tone in his voice melting.

"We were concerned, Willy, and all you did was push us away." Mrs Bucket's temper had calmed a little as well.

"I didn't need your help," said Willy, looking down.

"Yes, you did. Or you would never have locked yourself away. Why did you?"

"Because I made the mistake of trusting someone and they let me down," answered Willy, sinking back into his chair.

"This isn't about the performance, is it?" asked Mrs Bucket.

"No. I asked Miss Derby to visit. That's what the letter was about."

"I knew you were lying," said Dr Wonka, shaking his head at Willy.

"Yes, well, you were right Dad. She didn't even reply. I thought we could be friends. I was mistaken. Now you can all have a laugh about it and say "I told you so!" to each other and I'll never make the same mistake again." Willy poked at his lamb with his fork miserably.

"Willy we'd never say that," said Mrs Bucket, glaring at Dr Wonka to stop him doing so.

"Of course not my boy," said Dr Wonka, glowering back at her. "I'm sorry she let you down."

"Thanks." There was an uncomfortable hush.

"Why don't you eat lamb?" asked Grandpa George.

"Uh, no reason," answered Willy.

"There must be – why not?" asked Grandpa George again, pressing for an answer. Feeling all eyes on him, Willy looked up and shrugged apologetically at Dr Wonka.

"Miffy," he mumbled. The Buckets, confused, looked at one another. Dr Wonka, however, burst out laughing to the point where he couldn't speak. When he had calmed down sufficiently, he coughed and looked back at his son.

"You're not still upset about that are you?" he said.

"I was only five!" shouted Willy, surprising the Buckets.

"What happened?" asked Charlie.

"Don't you dare," threatened Willy, pointing at his father with a fork.

"My brother, Alfred," started Dr Wonka. Willy made a show of sticking his fingers in his ears and shutting his eyes.

"I can't hear you!" hummed Willy.

"My brother, Alfred," repeated Dr Wonka, "came to dinner one Sunday. Willy, as he's said, was five years old and it happened to be lamb for dinner. Well, in the morning, Willy came downstairs cuddling a toy lamb he used to have called Miffy."

"Aw," chorused the Buckets, turning as a unit to Willy, who turned crimson and buried his head under his arms.

"Please don't do this!" begged Willy.

"Alfred said the same as all of you just did and nothing more happened until lunch. Willy had left Miffy on the sofa and while we were in the dining room Willy asked what type of meat it was. Alfred replied it was lamb and joked that cook had taken Miffy and cooked her in the oven."

"That's so mean!" shrieked Charlie, giggling.

"Even though I found Miffy and gave her back to Willy, he still wouldn't finish dinner and didn't touch lamb again at home."

"Is that why you've got so many candy floss sheep?" asked Charlie to the recumbent Willy Wonka.

"Yes. I like sheep because they're cute. Any more horrors from my childhood you'd like to bring up now Dad?" asked Willy, head slightly to one side.

"No, I think that will do for today," answered Dr Wonka.

"Pity," said Grandpa George with an evil grin.

"What happened to Miffy anyway?" asked Willy.

"I think she's in the attic with the rest of the stuff you left behind," answered Dr Wonka. "I can look for her when I go home tomorrow if you like." Willy was about to agree when he realised he'd lost enough face for today.

"No rush." He prodded the lamb in front of him. "Would you mind if I moved onto dessert Mrs Bucket?"

"Not at all love, help yourself," replied Mrs Bucket, waving a hand expansively at the cake on the sideboard. Willy exhaled in relief and left the table.

After dinner, Willy sat out on a secluded hillock in the sugar grass and picked a dark green spearmint blade to chew on. He'd almost forgotten about Rosanna and was feeling better than he had in days, laying back on his own meadow watching the hypnotic chocolate waterfall as it cascaded down into the river. He gazed through half-lidded eyes at the ripples above the plunge pool, trying to count them even as they disappeared. The heady smell of chocolate surrounded him and he could taste mint in the air as the cool sugar meadow pressed into his back and prickled at his unprotected neck. The current in the river ebbed and flowed, flowed and ebbed, ebbed and flowed…

Two Oompa-Loompas arrived at the door of Charlie's house a half-hour later. They were agitated and gestured wildly at Charlie while trying to explain what they needed. Charlie tried desperately to understand.

"Mr Wonka is asleep, got it," said Charlie. "Next part?" There was more frantic waving. "You need someone to help? With what? If it's really important, Mr Wonka should…" Charlie stopped as the Oompa-Loompas shook their heads and grabbed hold of his jeans at knee level. "Okay, lead on."

"You really shouldn't have to deal with this Charlie, it's past your bedtime," admonished Mrs Bucket.

"Mum, it's fine," sighed Charlie, following the two Oompa-Loompas as they dragged him forwards to the door of the chocolate room. Trying not to fall, Charlie followed the pair as they guided him towards the main doors of the factory and signalled for him to wait. They pressed the intercom button twice. A woman's voice crackled through in response.

"Yes, hello. Like I said, I have a letter from Mr Wonka. Can I come in now please?"

"Isn't it raining outside?" asked Charlie. The Oompa-Loompa on the left nodded. "Let her in then."

Outside, Rosanna stamped her feet and blinked the rain out of her eyes, shivering slightly in the cold. She'd already waitedten minutesand was wet through, her coat, bought for summer showers and not winter downpours, useless against the unrelenting torrent. She had found it strange that a dwarf – so she thought – had come to the gate to see who was ringing the intercom button and had doubted as to whether she would be allowed in or left out here forever. She hadn't heard Charlie's response, but when he had instructed she was to be let in the factory, the Oompa-Loompas had signalled to the gatekeeper to open the gates. As the great iron gates swung on their hinges, Rosanna darted through and under the arch, anxious in case whoever had opened the gates would change their mind. She ran to the factory doors, which opened as she approached to allow her entrance. She paused in the long hall, shook the water from her hair and removed her coat. There was no-one around. Taking two steps further in, Rosanna listened carefully for signs of life. Because she was listening so carefully, she nearly jumped out of her skin when the factory doors clanged shut behind her.

"Hello?" she called, the sound echoing down the hall and chilling her to the bone. "Anyone there?" She dropped her coat in readiness of fleeing and repeated her call. "Hello?"

"That's right – just leave your coat anywhere and someone will hang it up!" replied a man's voice from the opposite end of the corridor. As he approached, Rosanna recognised him as Willy Wonka and felt the fear drain from her a little. She noticed he was flattening his hair and straightening his clothing as he walked as if this was the most normal thing in the world to be doing. When he drew level, Willy looked down and into her face. "I was asleep. Charlie here woke me up," Willy gestured to his apprentice, who was following him a few steps behind. Charlie looked up and smiled.

"Nice to see you again Miss Derby."

"Likewise, Charlie," replied Rosanna, not looking away from Willy's face that still hadn't offered her even a hint of recognition. He nonchalantly picked an errant blade of sugar grass from his coat. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," she said to Willy's blank face.

"So am I," said Willy, turning without a smile and striding back down the hall. "Charlie, show Miss Derby to a guest room. I will conduct the tour in the morning," called Willy, disappearing into the elevator and leaving the hallway.

"Charming," said Rosanna.

"He's tired," replied Charlie. "He'll be better tomorrow."

"I wasn't expecting to spend the night here – I haven't brought a toothbrush or anything."

"We've always got spares – I'll tell the Oompa-Loompas to bring one up to your room."

"I really don't know," said Rosanna, looking back at the elevator shaft. Something clicked. "Oompa-Loompas?"

"The workers," replied Charlie, gesturing behind her to a group of ten Oompa-Loompas who were dressed in their black security uniforms and broad grins.

"Oh, hello," she managed.

"I'll show you up – he's taken the elevator so we'd better use the stairs. It's only two floors." Charlie headed for the staircase and looked back at Rosanna. "Coming?"

"I suppose," said Rosanna, feeling a little overwhelmed. "What have I got to lose?" she muttered, following Charlie up the stairs.

* * *

**Author's note: I made Charlie twelve because I figured that if he was eleven at the start of the book and had a Wonka bar for his birthday, he would have aged a year. If Charlie was ten at the start of the book/movie, I'm out by a year and I apologise and ask you to simply let me know and I'll edit the story accordingly. Oh yes, in the next chapter we will find out what Rosanna was up to in the 'missing days' between the letter and her arrival at the factory, along with the answer to the age-old question – what's a cootie?**

**Please review – I'm on a diet and the lack of treats is making me obsessive about how well my fanfic is being received! Or not well, whatever. It's torture to write about chocolate without eating any. I've almost forgotten the taste… And CHILDREN have bought all the Wonka bars in the shops. Guess I'd better get some Dairy Milk. Oh well, it is my birthday tomorrow so maybe I'll get boxes of chocs and have to 'allow myself' the odd one or twelve in the spirit of the season… ;-)**


	11. The tour

Rosanna shut the bedroom door on Charlie's smiling face and turned to face her guestroom. To her relief, far from the cold worker's room she'd been expecting, the room was opulently decorated in rich swirls of toffee and chocolate linens. The king-size bed looked invitingly soft and the lights were dimmed to just the right level. Admittedly, it had taken a small army of Oompa-Loompas over an hour to rip off the dustcovers, thoroughly clean the room, dress the bed and place flowers in the waiting vases, but the effort had been well worth it and now the room was as cosy as any she'd ever stayed in. It was certainly more comfortable than the dingy hotel-room she'd left two hours earlier to come to the factory. She tottered over to the door leading to the bathroom and paused to admire the intricate moulding on the door handle – two interlocked W's in filigree pattern adorned the main handle, the filigree chasing back to the door. The bathroom was no less impressive – a sunken bath adorned one corner of the room, whilst the room itself was larger than her living room in her caravan, the entire bathroom decorated in rich honey tones. She suppressed the memory of the caravan and reached for the white towelling robe hung behind the door, smoothing the rough towelling with her fingers. It scratched at her fingers pleasantly, the way a towel does after drying too quickly outside on a warm day. Feeling that a bath would be more than welcome after the wait in the rain for someone to come and let her in, Rosanna poured a bath and tugged out the tangles from her damp hair with the comb someone had thoughtfully placed there for her to use. Undressing, she threw her tatty jeans and white shirt into a corner to 'keep safe' while she bathed.

Laying back in the warm bath, feeling the soft foam give way under her shoulders, Rosanna sighed deeply. She was pleased that the evening hadn't been a complete waste of time. Charlie seemed pleasant enough and perhaps Willy's coldness towards her had simply been tiredness as the young child had tried to explain. Even if Willy was angry with her for not coming to the factory sooner, he had still expressed his intention to take her on a tour the next day and she was highly curious to see what could possibly be inside the factory. Hey, she thought, I'm already inside. And inside the factory is a big warm bath… She ducked her head under the water, soaking her hair and running her hands over her forehead and the goose-egg lump above her eye caused by Willy's elbow on the trapeze. She surfaced, gasping slightly for breath as bubbles had gone up her nose, and shook her head. At least the unattractive purple of the bruise had given way to an equally unattractive yellow, which meant that the injury was healing nicely. The swelling was down to half as well – maybe in a week or two she'd be completely back to normal. Not that that's such a great improvement, she thought. Musing about the bruise brought her back to reality a little and she was forced to think about why she had been so remiss in replying to Willy's invitation to the factory. Shampooing her hair, Rosanna considered the last few days.

It had all started when she'd got back to the park after escorting Willy home. Malcolm had let her in without a word, but when she arrived at her caravan she found Frederick, the ringmaster, and Elaina waiting for her outside, neither looking overly impressed.

"Hello," she'd said, expecting nothing worse than a few swear words and an inquiry as to where she had been. What she hadn't expected was Frederick's insistence that she accompany him to his office – in reality, a small room inside a trailer where the contracts were kept – and an hour's discussion about the evening's events culminating in a screaming argument between Elaina and herself. Elaina had seen Willy leaving Rosanna's caravan and, in typical Elaina style, had concocted an elaborate plot whereby Willy Wonka and Rosanna were lovers intent on destroying Elaina's career. Rosanna had told Elaina to stop being so bloody stupid. The upshot of the 'discussion' was that Rosanna would not perform again for the circus until the bruise above her eye had healed and that she would be removed from the act with Elaina. Bridling, furious that she could no longer perform with her beloved horses, Rosanna had stormed out and spent the next few hours seething in private. As morning broke, Rosanna had dressed and headed off to town, locking the caravan door firmly behind her. She'd spent the whole day out of the circus ground at a café, the waitress all too happy to keep on topping up the drink while Rosanna still had cash to spend on coffee and cakes. At five o'clock, Rosanna moved on to a fish and chip shop, eating her way through two portions of salty fish and dry chips before deciding to do some real damage to her body and hitting a local pub. Finally, at eleven o'clock, she'd staggered home too drunk to care that nobody was talking to her. For this combination of reasons, she hadn't discovered that Willy Wonka and Charlie had been to the circus ground earlier that day and she didn't see the letter as she staggered in, not bothering with the lights in her quest for the toilet.

The next morning, or afternoon rather, Rosanna had been violently sick with a pounding headache. Refusing to give in, she had swung her legs over the end of the bunk and tried to negotiate with her blurred legs that down was in fact a good direction to be heading in. Landing in an undignified lump, she'd crawled to the bathroom and spent a good deal of time throwing up. When she'd finally emerged to grab a drink of water, she'd spotted the gold envelope amongst a collection of white envelopes, flyers and notes written on paper clearly scrounged from Frederick's office. The most urgent letter however had been the one in the red envelope, which she knew came directly from Frederick himself. Groaning, a glass of water in her hand, she'd read her instructions. She was to go to Frederick's office and explain her drunken behaviour to Frederick at six o'clock tonight. A glance at the wall-clock had told her that she had only four hours to cure her hangover, get washed, get dressed and get herself to the office. She'd thrown the rest of the mail onto the table, intent on opening it later that day. She was used to well-wishers and fans posting mail into her caravan at every town and saw no importance in forcing herself to read any more than absolutely necessary at that time. The meeting with Frederick had gone as badly as expected – despite her protests, Frederick had expressed a deep and profound disappointment in her actions. He had insisted that she would be better suited to the role of an acrobat, suggesting also that she was getting too old for trick-riding. At 32, Rosanna felt anything but old. Her patience had given way when he insisted she apologise to Elaina and her temper had mercilessly murdered diplomacy by the time she'd told Frederick to take his job and make it intimately acquainted with a delicate part of his anatomy. Storming out, she'd run back to the caravan and packed in a hurry, throwing the letters and her purse into a handbag and the rest of her possessions into the old and battered suitcase kept hidden on the bunk she didn't use. She'd left in a huff, forgetting that it was now past nine and that few hotels were likely to put her up for the night. She'd found one bed and breakfast desperate for business however and had spent two nights planning what to do next until finally deciding to catch a train to London on Halloween.

An hour into the train journey, she'd remembered her letters and pulled the first of many scribbled notes from her fellow performers from her bag. Some were from friends of Elaina's, cursing her for picking on the 'poor girl' and ruining the performance. Far more however had been from her own friends, expressing their sorrow at hearing that she was no longer part of the horse troupe. She'd burst out laughing at some of the suggestions made by the acrobats that she train the horses to attack Elaina, but was frankly disturbed at the suggestions made to her by the mime artist. Finally she'd started opening the letters. The first had been from a young girl who asked how she could get into showbusiness. Rosanna had shaken her head and crumpled the note – she was the last person to be giving advice now. The second envelope had continued a rude note asking her to engage in an activity she wasn't sure was quite legal. The third and fourth were both complimentary and she had smoothed them out before putting the letters into a neat pile with the notes from her friends at the circus. The notes from Elaina's friends, needless to say, had already been ripped into shreds. The fifth envelope she'd opened had been the gold one from Willy Wonka. There, in a script-like handwriting she recognised from the wrappers of the Wonka chocolate bars, she'd read the following written in bright purple ink:

_My dearest friend,_

_I feel awful that I failed in my duty to properly thank you for your efforts in assuring the safety of my person last night. Please come to the gates of my factory at your earliest convenience that I may show you around my factory and – perhaps – we can spend some time talking, as I believe friends do._

_Yours,_

_W.W._

She'd read the note twice more before making her mind up to catch the next train back to take advantage of Willy's offer – a tour around the factory sounding more appealing than house-hunting in London. She had left the train at the next stop, clutching her handbag and suitcase in one hand, the letter in the other. However, it is rarely a good idea to impulsively leave a train at its next stop without first finding out where the next stop is, nor is it a good idea to watch said train disappear into the distance before realising that its stop was a country halt with no ticket station or level crossing in sight.

"Bugger." She remembered swearing as she had realised her mistake, then had climbed over the footbridge to wait for the next train heading in the right direction. She waited. Half an hour later, a Virgin train sped through the station without slowing, despite Rosanna's frantic waving for it to do otherwise. She'd waited some more, almost dozing off on the platform before the arrival of another train had been foretold to her by the vibration of the wire fence alongside the track, the high-pitched rattling waking her in time to request that the train stop. She'd climbed aboard, ignoring the look the conductor had given her with respect to her battered luggage and found the fare back to where she had started out from that lunchtime. Unfortunately, it was to be four changes and six delays before Rosanna eventually got to her destination after midnight. She'd spent the night at the station, spending the morning achieving the almost impossible – finding a hotel that would take someone who looked as rough as her and give her the keys to a room on a Sunday. It had been something of an anti-climax to shower and race to the factory, only to be shown to her room by a skinny kid.

Rosanna squirmed happily in the bath water. At least she was here now. Aware that she was exhausted from travelling, she pulled herself out of the bath before she fell asleep in the water and ascended the steps out of the bath and into the main bathroom. Wrapping herself in a huge fluffy towel, which was softer than the towelling robe, she rubbed her arms and smiled contentedly. Perhaps Elaina had done her a favour after all. She walked out and found that someone – an Oompa-Loompa perhaps – had laid out a modest nightdress for her to wear. She tried it on – it was several sizes too big but was all she had so curled up inside it under the blankets of the impossibly comfortable bed to sleep. Moments later, the serene scene was disrupted by a snore that could cut wood. Oblivious, Rosanna slept on.

Rosanna felt very hard done by the next morning when an Oompa-Loompa gently shook her awake and helped her to sit up. She blinked at the tiny man, wondering how he'd had the strength to move her.

"Orgh," she started and swallowed. "Thanks," she managed. "Morning," she added as an afterthought. The Oompa-Loompa rolled his eyes and handed her a coffee, indicating with a wave the full English breakfast on the bedside table. "Cheers," she muttered, the coffee still not having had the desired effect. She noticed the cafetiere next to the plate. "Thank God," she moaned, gulping down the excellent, strong coffee. Remembering that her 'tour' was this morning and not wanting to keep Willy waiting, she lifted the breakfast tray carefully onto her lap and proceeded to devour four slices of bacon, two sausages, half a loaf's worth of toast, eggs, tomatoes, beans and mushrooms, seemingly without pausing for breath. She finished the last cup of coffee and placed the tray gently onto the bedside table, standing with some difficulty in order to stretch. She noticed that despite her thoughtless discarding of her clothes the night before, they had been apparently laundered and neatly folded over the back of a chair in front of the dressing table. Rosanna found this a little creepy, unused to anyone having free access to her bedroom whilst she was asleep. Nevertheless, she was washed and dressed in record time and waited patiently in her room for further instructions.

Only ten minutes later, just as Rosanna's boredom level had risen to the point where she was counting the number of chimneys she could see from her room, there was a tentative knock at the door. She bounced over, a courteous smile on her face, and opened the door. She saw no-one. Looking down, she saw Charlie staring up at her.

"Hi!" he said.

"Hi there!" she replied.

"Ready for your tour?"

"Of course!"

"Mr Wonka sent me up to fetch you – do you mind elevators, only I'm going to be late for school if we take the stairs?"

"Elevators are fine." She almost regretted her words as she stepped into the glass elevator, the drop below seeming too deep to be real. She regretted the decision even more when Charlie pressed the button for 'Entrance Hall' and the elevator swooped downwards at a frightening speed. Seconds later, the elevator stopped with a lurch. Her stomach contents at heart level, Rosanna smiled weakly at Charlie as he grinned at her and ran off towards the main doors, disappearing with a final clang of metal. Rosanna loosened her grip on the bar she'd been holding onto and stepped into the hall. The first thing that struck her was how very long the hall was compared to her bleary memory of it the night before. The second was that it contained a highly amused Willy Wonka, who upon noticing her noticing him, touched a gloved hand to his hat.

"Good morning, Miss Derby."

"Hi," she groaned, her stomach revolving.

"Oh dear – problems with the elevator? Try this," he said, offering a paper bag of sweets from a coat pocket. 'This' turned out to be a fizzy white sweet that tasted remarkably of lemon sherbet. Rosanna gave a soft sigh as the sweet cured her nausea.

"Thanks."

"You know, it's the darnedest thing, but I'm sure that elevator knows when you're in a hurry and tries to get you there double fast. Heh. Pity we're not built for it. Now if I could improve the stabilisers…" Willy drifted off, then turned to face Rosanna with a smile. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very – and thanks for breakfast."

"No problem – now, on with the tour." Willy twirled his cane and led the way to the chocolate room door, Rosanna becoming more convinced than ever that the excesses of the last week were taking their toll when she was forced to duck to avoid the ceiling. "This is the second largest room in the factory and it's where Charlie's family live." Willy pushed open the chocolate room door and motioned for Rosanna to go inside.

As she stepped forward, Rosanna was aware of the thick, heady smell of chocolate penetrating her senses. She blinked to adjust to the light and gasped as she saw the green sugar meadow and coloured trees. Staggering forward mindlessly, she gazed open-mouthed at the sight of Charlie's house on the chocolate river bank with the waterfall in the background. She waved at a group of Oompa-Loompas who were pruning a dark reed-black tree and they stopped work for a second to turn and bow to her in unison.

"This is lovely," she whispered. "What are these plants? And is that chocolate in the river?"

"They're not plants – they're candy trees."

"What?"

"Candy trees. Yes, the river is chocolate. Everything's eatable in this room – oh, apart from Charlie's house. Even I'm eatable, but that my dear girl would be cannibalism and is… what are you doing?" Willy stopped as Rosanna bent down next to the river. "Don't touch that!"

"I wasn't going to!" said Rosanna, standing up and walking back to Willy.

"Good. The chocolate must be untouched by human hands. Although there have been breaches twice this year and you wouldn't believe the fuss to clean the chocolate and decontaminate the system afterwards."

"Why the river anyway?"

"Oh – the waterfall mixes the chocolate and makes it lighter. This is the only factory in the world that mixes its chocolate by waterfall and you can take that…" he stopped himself before finishing the line, aware that he was quoting the well-rehearsed tour from February. "Sorry. Forgot who I was with. Everything's eatable."

"Edible."

"I'm sorry, my dear, but you really shouldn't mumble, I cannot hear a word you are saying. Everything's eatable in this room so snack on anything you fancy." Rosanna looked around and then back to Willy, not entirely sure that he was serious. Keeping eye contact with Willy, she walked to the nearest tree and snapped off a small, orange twig. He nodded encouragingly, but there was something in the keen expression on his face that was putting her off trying it. She shook her head.

"Really candy?" she asked.

"Yes," said Willy with a sigh. "Honestly." He folded his hands over his cane and watched Rosanna deliberate over whether to bite into the twig or not. When Willy snapped his teeth together twice in imitation of taking a bite, Rosanna shrugged and nibbled at the end of the twig. Her eyes widened in surprise and a smile played on her lips as she swallowed.

"Ginger!"

"Yep. Although I prefer the term auburn," he muttered, patting his hair.

"The taste I meant."

"Yes – the white ones are lime and the brown ones are toffee. The black ones are liquorice."

"These don't really grow like trees do they?"

"Of course – look," said Willy, indicating the place on the tree where Rosanna had snapped the twig from. A thin trickle of orange sap was oozing out to heal the cut in the bark.

"Wow."

"Come one – there's more to see!"

"What's this plant?" asked Rosanna, bending down next to a pink bush.

"Raspberry ripple hawthorn. Very prickly if you should choose to hide in it. Not recommended." Willy touched the back of his neck subconsciously and Rosanna considered asking him how he knew this strange fact before deciding she really didn't want to know.

"And what's over here?" she asked, heading off to the opposite end of the meadow. Willy scowled – he'd been trying to direct her to the boat so they could continue the tour and she was ruining his schedule.

"You know, for someone who walked through a rainstorm to get to the factory, you seem very keen to avoid seeing the rest of it. This is just one room – there are lots of others!"

"But what's the point of running through them and seeing nothing?" Rosanna answered. Willy thought about this and nodded in agreement, gesturing for her to carry on. At that moment however, the door of Charlie's house opened and Dr Wonka emerged from the house. He walked over to Willy and looked over to Rosanna, smiling in greeting but – Willy noticed – without the smile reaching his eyes.

"Is this the guest that Charlie mentioned?" said Dr Wonka.

"Yes, Dad, it is."

"How very nice to see you again," said Dr Wonka coldly. Willy flinched as the dentist held out his hand.

"Indeed it is wonderful to see you again sir," answered Rosanna in the same tone, taking Dr Wonka's hand and shaking it. Willy's eyes widened – he was used to people apologising and backing down when his father used that tone!

"How very nice of you to finally respond to your letter." Dr Wonka turned and smiled at Willy. "Stay well, son."

"And you," said Willy, hugging his father goodbye.

"You will come and visit me soon?"

"Of course I will." Willy watched as his father walked out of the chocolate room, pausing only to wave at Willy before leaving through the door. Willy felt a pang at seeing his father go, but knew that he'd be back if only to gossip with Grandpa George again – someone that Dr Wonka had taken an unexpected liking to. Willy remembered himself and turned back to Rosanna.

"Your father doesn't like me, does he?" she asked, knowing the answer.

"He doesn't like anyone much. You're a circus person who doesn't send replied to letters – he finds that offensive."

"I would have replied, only…" Rosanna wondered where to start. She sunk down onto the grass and sat with her legs crossed, her blue jeans scratching together as she moved. "Sit down, it's a long story."

By the time Rosanna had told Willy why she hadn't come straight to the factory it was nearly lunch, thanks to the almost constant interruptions from Mrs Bucket offering tea or coffee and from Willy himself, who was best described as an interactive listener in these circumstances. When she'd finished describing her week to him, he smiled broadly and lay back on the grass, top hat tilted over his eyes to keep out the sun from the skylights above.

"I knew you weren't mean. I knew my father was wrong."

"Thanks," said Rosanna, wondering what had been said about her.

"Would you like to carry on with the tour now?" asked Willy, not moving.

"Do we have to cover the whole place in one day?"

"No, but you'd have to come back another day if we didn't see everything, and you might not want to – you've said how busy you are."

"I'm not busy. I'm unemployed and homeless. You don't get much less busy than that. And I'd love to come back again."

"Sure?"

"Sure," said Rosanna, looking down at Willy's face where a thin smile was playing over his lips. Rosanna grinned and lay back on the grass next to Willy, maintaining a respectable distance between them.

"So, why did you join the circus?" asked Willy.

"An accident. I'd been trick-riding for years and I was in a competition in Romania about seven years ago. I'd won the event, but we were performing for the crowd when an animal rights group stormed the arena and started shouting about how we were exploiting the horses."

"Were you?" asked Willy.

"It depends how you look at it. Our horses were always well looked after and we never harmed them. Other performers do in order to speed up the training process."

"What happened next?"

"Boxie – my horse – panicked and bolted, and eventually the noise frightened him so much he started trying to buck me off. I held on the first two times, but fell on the third. I crashed through some staging, knocked myself out and landed on a fence, which of course, being me, I got impaled on." Rosanna saw Willy's hands clench automatically as he winced in sympathy, baring his teeth.

"Where?" he asked.

"Around my tummy," said Rosanna.

"But you're alright now?"

"Kind of…"

"What do you mean?" asked Willy, rolling onto his side and resting his face on his right arm for support as he watched her.

"There was some damage to my lower spine – nothing that couldn't be repaired enough for the simple work we do in the circus but I was told not to compete anymore. And I've still got the scars."

"Where?" asked Willy. Rosanna leaned on her left elbow and pointed to a position just above her right hip.

"The fence was a wooden picket effect fence with skinny wooden slats. One went in here, another here," she moved her hand above the left hip, "and the last one went in here," she finished, indicating a point roughly in the middle of the two. She noticed Willy's face pale a little and stopped.

"Eww. Did they do any damage?" asked Willy.

"Yes, they did," said Rosanna, staring off into space and drifting off for a moment. She recovered with a brilliant smile and turned back to Willy. "So, where would you like to go next?"

"We need to get to the elevator – it's the fastest way around the factory!" He saw Rosanna's smile fade and pulled the bag of sweets from earlier out of his pocket. "I promise the elevator will go slower and we still have these," he finished, rattling the bag. He stood, shaking the broken shards of grass off his coat tails and carefully repositioning his top hat. Without even turning to check if Rosanna was following, Willy strode off to the nearest elevator port and pressed the call button, a distressing clattering grinding closer and closer until the elevator itself appeared from the right-hand side. Rosanna blinked – she couldn't possibly have seen that… Following Willy into the elevator, Rosanna gasped at the huge number of buttons on the walls – there were even some on the roof and floor! Willy noticed her reading the tags on the buttons and grinned. "Pick one," he said.

"What's the Rock Candy Mine? Is it really 10,000 feet deep?"

"Yes. We were lucky – I'd found out about the seam just after I'd bought the plot for the factory. It wasn't until the Oompa-Loompas arrived that we started excavating though."

"And Fudge Mountain?"

"Largest in the world."

"Inside the factory?"

"Where else was I supposed to put it?"

"You moved a mountain?" asked Rosanna, aghast.

"Of course. Much too dangerous to send teams of Oompa-Loompas to Tibet every few months to collect more fudge – it's too cold there for them. As it is, they have to wear thermal underwear to mine the fudge."

"Can we go there?"

"Of course," said Willy, pressing the button. "It's the other end of the factory, so keep an eye out as we're passing some very interesting rooms." The elevator rose slowly, perhaps sensing that its extra passenger was still a little fragile after her first trip this morning. Rosanna looked down at the sugar meadow and chocolate river and shook her head.

"It's amazing – and you built all this yourself?"

"No. The Oompa-Loompas helped. I left them to do most of the work while I went out to Loompaland to bring back the sugar plants. And some of the plants are my own creation – the sugar grass for instance."

"You created it?" asked Rosanna slowly.

"Yes. I needed it to clothe the meadow. Why?"

"You created a totally new species."

"Yes?"

"On your own?"

"In the Inventing Room." Willy stared at Rosanna for a moment. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine." Rosanna couldn't quite believe what she was hearing, but had no reason to doubt what Willy had said. Could she really be in the presence of someone who could create new plant species out of thin air?

"Oh, you'll like this," said Willy, pointing over her shoulder to an approaching viewing window. He pressed a button to slow the elevator as they passed and Rosanna saw a small room with a three-tiered fountain in the centre. The water in the base of the fountain was clear, but the spray from the top was multi-coloured. The spray solidified as it fell – Rosanna saw Oompa-Loompas with nets catching the falling coloured beads. "Rainbow drops," explained Willy. "Ever tried them?"

"Once, I prefer chocolate," murmured Rosanna, transfixed. Willy smiled to himself, pleased that she was interested in the factory. It might be nice to have someone else to talk to, he thought. The Buckets tended to operate as one unit (and he was still a little afraid of Grandpa George) apart from Charlie, and his father, while impressed with the factory, wasn't really interested in how the candy was made. "How do you get the different flavours?"

"It's all to do with the fountain head," said Willy. "It picks a flavour at random and adds it to the spray just as it leaves the fountain."

"I've never seen anything like it."

"I know."

"Let me guess, you invented it?" Rosanna looked up at Willy and received a satisfied nod as her answer. "Wow." Some more rooms flashed by, Rosanna squealing with delight when she saw the "Nut Room" as she loved squirrels. "Sorry, I'm such a girl sometimes," said Rosanna, apologising for startling Willy.

"I'd never have guessed from the clothes," he said. Rosanna gave him a sharp look and he put his head down slightly, worried he'd insulted her. "Sorry."

"I know you didn't mean it," said Rosanna. "Like I didn't mean the look I gave you either," she continued, trying to cheer Willy up. He looked up at her, big puppy-dog eyes wide open.

"Really?" Rosanna melted, knowing that even if he had insulted her she would forgive those eyes anything.

"Really," she said, allowing herself to lose focus for a moment and stare at Willy. For his part, Willy was pleased that Rosanna appeared to be fine and he snapped back to attention and looked out in the direction the elevator was moving.

"Next stop, Fudge Mountain!" announced Willy. "We could get out at the base, but I suggest we just stay in the elevator above it – it's got the best view."

"Okay, whatever you say," said Rosanna. Willy pressed a button next to the one for Fudge Mountain that said "Above FM" and looked back at her to better study her reaction to the sight she was about to see. Rosanna was still convinced that, despite the amazing meadow and fantastic fountain, there wouldn't really be a mountain in the factory. She turned away and looked down and into the room they'd just entered, terror seizing her as the sheer enormity of the mountain hit her. "Oh my God," she whispered, sinking to her knees. "It's real – it's actually real." A wisp of fog floated by the elevator as they stopped. Down on the mountainside, Rosanna could see Oompa-Loompas with pickaxes, mining the fudge just as Willy had told her. To her horror, Willy opened the doors and leaned out, catching some of the fog in his hand and letting a cold blast of sweet air into the elevator.

"Icing sugar," he said, stepping back into the centre of the elevator and crouching to show Rosanna the fine dust covering his glove. "It stops the fudge going sticky after it's taken down the mountain, but it's a devil to get out of your hair. It took me days the last time."

"The last time?" asked Rosanna weakly, eyes fixed on the edge of the elevator floor next to the doors. Her hand snaked up to the railing and she gripped it tightly, hoping that the glass was stronger than it looked.

"I like climbing it. I do it once a month now."

"Mr Wonka?"

"How many times must I ask you to call me Willy?" he said, smiling broadly at her.

"Willy, please close the door," said Rosanna in a small voice, watching with a horrified grimace as Willy did so.

"What's the matter Rosanna?"

"This is scary Willy, very scary," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"Oh, is it?" said Willy, looking down at the mountain and waving cheerfully at the Oompa-Loompas.

"Did you have to open the door?" said Rosanna in a high voice, curling a little and clutching at her knees. Heights in a circus tent were fine. But she couldn't even see the bottom of the mountain – she guessed they were at least a mile-high. Willy crouched next to her again.

"Can I show you somewhere else now?" he asked, a little disappointed in her. Rosanna nodded furiously and Willy pressed the button for the "Candy Floss Room." He wasn't used to other people acting like this in front of him and he wasn't entirely sure what to do next. He was usually the one who needed comforting. As the elevator slowly moved off, Willy thought back to what Rosanna had done when he'd been upset. She'd cuddled him close, but he didn't think he was capable of that. It took a lot for Willy to hug even his own father – he was far more comfortable with reciprocating a hug than initiating one. He wondered if a handshake would suffice in these circumstances. "Don't be scared," he said. "I'm right here and I won't let anything happen to you." He looked out at the rooms passing smoothly by him and waited for a response. Well done, he thought. You finally make a friend and then you terrify her to the point where she'll never want to see you again. Great. The elevator stopped at the shearing point of the "Candy Floss Room" and Willy opened the doors. "Come on slowpoke," he said brightly, stepping out of the elevator. Rosanna uncurled and looked around her, spotting the pink sheep in the pen and giving a sharp intake of breath.

"What are they used for?" she asked, slowly straightening and stepping out of the elevator. Willy noticed her relief at standing on an opaque surface again.

"Candy Floss. I considered calling it Candy Fleece, but then decided people might not buy it." He reached over and pulled some pink fluff from the collecting bucket. "Try some?" Rosanna took some of the fluff from Willy's hand, doing her best to stop shaking. She took a bite and felt the strands dissolve on her tongue, leaving a sweet taste quite superior to the slightly burned taste of the candy floss she was used to at the circus.

"It's lovely," she said. "How long does it take them to grow the wool back?"

"About six months – they're long-haired naturally so the wool grows quickly."

"Naturally you say? So not another Wonka creation?"

"Oh no, these are descended from some sheep I took from Loompaland years ago. These are the offspring I selectively bred for finer and sweeter wool of course, but they are essentially identical to the wild sheep."

"Willy?"

"Yes Miss Derby?"

"Could I go back to my hotel now?" Rosanna stopped and looked desperately at Willy, pleading with him to agree.

"Why? Don't you like it here?" asked Willy, crestfallen. His disappointment showed on his face and Rosanna tried to make him feel better.

"Yes I do. It's – it's wonderful. But it's also so scary – you have mountains and mines and animals and meadows… You trained squirrels, you breed new plants and animals…"

"It's not scary," said Willy. "It's just what I do. That's why I couldn't let it all go to waste – and why I made Charlie my heir." Suddenly he looked a lot older than Rosanna had previously realised, the boyish look on his face gone for the moment.

"You're a genius," whispered Rosanna.

"I know," said Willy. "And that's why no-one has ever really understood what I've tried to do all my life. All I wanted was to make chocolate. And this," he said spreading his arms and indicating the whole factory, "is what happened."

"Let me go home," Rosanna pleaded. Willy nodded and Rosanna saw the fire in his eyes die for a moment, just as it had that night at the circus. He waved towards the elevator.

"I'll take you. The elevator can fly – I'll drop you outside your hotel."

"It flies as well?" asked Rosanna.

"Yes."

"Is there another way out of the building?" she asked, exasperated.

"There's always the stairs…"

"Which way?"

"I'll show you," said Willy, turning and walking slowly to the door of the shearing room. Rosanna's head was spinning – there was nothing simple in this factory – everything was either crazy or enhanced or made of chocolate or… or eatable. She found herself longing for normality and thought about the room she'd slept in the night before. It had been normal, although beautiful, just like everything else. Maybe that's why the factory was so ugly outside, so that Willy could contrast the interior and exterior and remain sane. She followed Willy downstairs, trying to order her thoughts about the factory and the chocolatier in front of her. Willy meanwhile was going through another dark cloud of depression and his shoulders sagged as he dragged his feet down the never-ending spiral staircase to the hallway.

Once in the entrance hall, Rosanna shook her head as she was a little dizzy from the descent. Willy turned to her and tried to smile.

"Thanks for coming."

"My pleasure," said Rosanna, finding the grey of the hall soothing her nerves.

"Sorry I scared you. May I at least walk you to the gates?" he looked at Rosanna and she noticed he was holding back tears. She knew that he didn't realise how strange his world was to someone as jaded as herself and was sorry she had disillusioned him.

"Of course. When can I come back for the rest of the tour?" she asked, hoping the request would have the desired effect. It did. She saw Willy's eyes come back to life as he cocked his head on one side and stared at her.

"The rest of the tour?" he asked.

"You did say earlier that if we didn't finish I could come back another day."

"You still want to?" asked Willy, afraid she'd say no.

"Yes, of course. Maybe next time we can go to the base of Fudge Mountain," she said, keeping the instinctive tremble out of her voice and grinning.

"Yey!" said Willy, raising his arms in a little cheer and bobbing his head side-to-side. Rosanna laughed and Willy stopped, smoothing over his features and suddenly becoming very serious. "Miss Derby, may I ask when I can next expect you at my establishment?" he pulled out a notepad and his pen and poised ready to take note of the date and time she would specify.

"That depends," she answered tartly.

"On what?" asked Willy, his top lip curling and his brow furrowing in confusion.

"On whether dinner tomorrow night at the Green Dragon restaurant is a success."

"Dinner. Restaurant. Tomorrow," repeated Willy. "This restaurant, it's outside the factory yes?"

"Yes. It's in the high street. I'll be there at seven and I'm expecting you on time."

"But it's outside…"

"I know. That's why people say they're going out for a meal together – because they have to go outside to do it. There's nothing to be scared of," she said, glad for an excuse to make him as uneasy as she had felt, "I'll be right there and we're only two friends having a meal, there won't be a trapeze in sight." She listened to her reasoning and questioned herself – did two friends really just 'go for a meal' at the Green Dragon, the most expensive Thai restaurant she'd ever seen? Why was she asking him out? She decided that it was because she felt sorry for Willy and was trying to compensate for the scare at the circus by being nice to him. _Liar_, sniggered her inner self.

"I have to come on my own?"

"That would make it easier to get a table at this short notice, yes."

"Yeah. 'Kay. I'll be there."

"Oh good. I'm sure we'll have a nice time," she said, smiling. She focused her attention on Willy's eyes as he smiled back and realised he looked a little scared. The inner voice interrupted her again with a snide, _you like him, don't you?_

"I hope so," replied Willy, hyperventilating a little as he spoke. He suddenly grabbed her hand and shook it fiercely. "It was fun today and I can't wait to see you tomorrow. Let me show you to the gates." Willy sprinted off to the main doors, Rosanna following at a more sedate pace as she observed her quarry – apologies, 'friend.' _He's not bad looking, _said her inner self, _and he's nice. And weird. And delightfully damaged and helpless so you could spend your time cuddling him and making him feel better. And he's good company. And a genius. _Her mind reeling, Rosanna tried to keep up with Willy and trotted after him as he crossed the courtyard.

Willy was racing ahead, barely aware of anything but a strange sense of panic that was mounting with every second he spent in Rosanna's company. The only solution was to get her out of the factory, fast, before he agreed to any more crazy ideas about going outside. He knew he could always not turn up the next night, but had a feeling that Rosanna would be deeply insulted if he did that. Besides, restaurants were a breeze compared to the circus. He opened the gate roughly and waved Rosanna through.

"Well goodbye," said Rosanna, stepping a little closer to Willy and studying his face as if trying to memorise every detail.

"Goodbye!" said Willy, smiling his brittle, fake smile that was always so useful in these circumstances. Rosanna turned away and walked through the gates, turning on the pavement to face Willy, who had chosen this moment to slam the gate shut as if all the demons of Hell were racing up the main street towards him. Rosanna regarded the iron bar that had stopped an inch from her nose and smirked at Willy.

"Seven o' clock. Don't be late." She walked away from the factory, forcing herself not to turn around and watch. Willy, relieved she didn't, allowed himself a shudder and wasted no time in racing back into the factory, through the hall and into the chocolate room. He raced through it, not stopping until after he'd burst through the door of Charlie's house and upset the whole Bucket family in the middle of afternoon tea.

"Help me!" he gasped, and fainted.

* * *

**Author's note: Thanks to all my kind reviewers! To Okashii na l-chan and all the others out there who were wondering… I'll never write a fanfic that I won't complete. See my profile for the full reason. I have already mapped this fanfic in my head – there's a fully-fledged flashback between Willy and his father and a 'glove scene' yet to come that were 'written' way before I saw the film for the second time in July. There are others of course, but to reveal them would spoil the surprise. **

**Oh yes, I lied about the cooties. The scene I had in mind didn't fit with this chapter so is now in the waiting room, ready to be slipped in later.**

**So, in short, this story won't peter out. Even if no one's reading and reviewing, this story will be completed. Although, having said that, reviews are always nice so please, if anyone's still reading, do review at the end. After all, it is my birthday precious… :-)**


	12. Dragons and cooties

"What? No the peanuts are fine where they are, thanks," muttered Willy, waving his hands in front of his face. He jerked his head back away from the imagined assailant and hit wooden boards, the dull thud echoing through his head. Suddenly conscious of the lack of floor beneath his feet, Willy took stock of what was happening to his body and realised he was laying on a wooden floor. He opened his eyes and saw Grandpa Joe, Charlie, Mrs Bucket and Mr Bucket kneeling around him in a circle, faces streaked with worry and staring into his own. His coat and waistcoat had been removed and someone had unbuttoned his collar to allow him more air. "Hi there," said Willy.

"Are you okay? What happened?" asked Charlie.

"I don't know…" groaned Willy. Memory slowly filtered into the fog of his mind. Tour… Mountain… Sheep… Green Dragon…Willy sat bolt upright and screamed.

"What is it?" asked Mrs Bucket, putting a hand to Willy's forehead.

"I've done something really, really stupid."

"What?"

"Dad's going to kill me."

"What have you done?" asked Mr Bucket.

"I've agreed to go to a restaurant with Rosanna tomorrow."

"Oh that's nice, dear, where?" said Mrs Bucket, smiling.

"The Green Dragon. She wants me to go alone. I'm sorry – I can't bring any of you."

"Well, no, we wouldn't expect you to," said Mr Bucket, knitting his brows at his wife.

"What's the matter?" asked Charlie.

"I don't think she's healthy for me!" wailed Willy. "Everything was fine and then she…"

"Yes?" asked Mr and Mrs Bucket together, eyes smiling as they leaned closer.

"She asked me to go for dinner and everything started hurting."

"What do you mean?" asked Grandpa Joe.

"My chest hurt and I felt like running away but my legs wouldn't work. And I'm shaking – look!" Willy sat up and held out his hands for inspection. Sure enough, they were trembling wildly.

"Did you have a panic attack when she talked to you?" asked Mrs Bucket. Willy nodded, pulling his knees into his chest.

"I thought we could be friends, but she freaks me out," said Willy, bowing his head.

"Well, maybe you should cancel if you feel like this," said Charlie, patting Willy gently on the arm.

"Charlie, go out and… prune the cabbages," said Mrs Bucket. Charlie looked at her incredulously.

"What?"

"Don't 'what?' me young man, shoo!" said Mrs Bucket, flapping her arms at Charlie until he left the house.

"Charlie's right, I shouldn't go," said Willy. "I'll send a note to the restaurant tomorrow saying… saying I've died or something and she can't argue with that."

"Willy, that would be lying," said Mr Bucket, "and you've done quite enough of that as far as Miss Derby is concerned."

"What can I do? She's so nice, but I can't eat in front of her! Look at me!" he swept a hand in front of himself and sighed. "This is why I never had any friends."

"You did," said Grandpa Joe. "Plenty of people at your old shop used to watch out for you."

"That was a different life," mumbled Willy, just on the edge of hearing.

"Go to the dinner, Willy," said Mr Bucket.

"Why?"

"You'll enjoy it. And if you don't, you don't have to see her again."

"But I want to!"

"Really?"

"Yes, but… No, she scares me… And I scare her."

"What makes you think that?" asked Mrs Bucket. Willy burst out crying and it was another five minutes before, through broken sobs, Willy could tell them about the Fudge Mountain incident.

"She probably hates me."

"No, she wouldn't have asked you out if she hated you," said Mr Bucket, before thinking. Willy's eyes widened and he stared at Mr Bucket in horror.

"Is that what she did? But she said we were just friends!"

"Of course! Plenty of friends ask each other out for coffee, dinner… etc…" faded Mr Bucket, looking to his wife for back-up. Mrs Bucket stared back at him with an equally blank expression and shrugged her shoulders.

"Sure?" asked Willy.

"Yes," said Grandpa Joe. "A nice friendly meal for two."

"By candlelight," added Mrs Bucket.

"In the most expensive restaurant in town," said Mr Bucket.

"With a pretty woman," said Grandpa Joe.

"Who saved your life," pointed out Mrs Bucket.

"What could be better? Or more innocent? Or more fun?" finished Mr Bucket. He was relieved to see that Willy, as ever, was completely oblivious to the subtleties of human behaviour, his breathing having calmed and his colour slowly returning.

"You think I should go?" asked Willy.

"Definitely," said Grandpa Joe.

"Absolutely," said Mr Bucket.

"No doubt about it," said Mrs Bucket.

"Poor girl," muttered Grandpa George in the background. "Does she know what she's getting herself into?"

"It would be rude to let her down Willy," said Mr Bucket loudly, drowning out his father. "After all, friends are always there for each other. And if you panic, just go outside for some fresh air," said Mr Bucket.

"Thanks – I knew you could help!" said Willy, springing to his feet. "I'll go help Charlie with the cabbages – they can be awkward little boogers!" With that, he ran out of the door.

"Do you think he knows she likes him?" asked Mrs Bucket.

"Does she?" asked Mr Bucket.

"I think so. I saw them together earlier and she was staring at him ever so sweetly."

"Can he cope with this though?" asked Grandpa Joe.

"I expect so. As well as he can cope with anything else," replied Mr Bucket.

"Which, from today's little display, is not at all well. Big girl's blouse, fainting like some schoolgirl," said Grandpa George sourly.

"Is he really that dim?" asked Mrs Bucket, peeking through the window at Willy and Charlie, each with a cabbage in their right hands, locked in a cabbage duel.

"I'm afraid so," said Mr Bucket, joining his wife at the window and stroking her shoulder gently while pecking her neck with a kiss. "I'm afraid so."

Willy won the cabbage duel, sending Charlie's cabbage crashing to the ground. With a final, triumphant shriek, Willy threw his cabbage at Charlie, who caught it neatly.

"See you later!" said Willy, skipping off to the elevator in high spirits. The weird panicky feeling had left him and now he was left with a blend of general excitement at meeting up with Rosanna the next day and a feeling of dread at having to mix with people he didn't know in a restaurant without the much-needed support of the Buckets around him. He wished he hadn't run off from the factory gates – she must think he was such a fool! And to have slammed the gate in her face as well… He shrugged. She'd confirmed the time after that incident anyway. Visiting the restaurant had been all her idea anyway, thought Willy, and she could hardly blame him for disliking the idea when she knew of his dislike of strangers. Maybe she did hate him, thought Willy. Perhaps she'd suggested this as a way of punishing him for frightening her? Maybe she was actually on Elaina's side and this was all an elaborate plot to hurt him? Willy dwelled on this for a few more minutes before shaking his head. Madness lay along that route. He pressed the Inventing Room button and was grateful for once that the elevator wasted no time in speeding him to his destination so that he could lose himself in designing new candies and not concentrating on the following night.

At midnight, stomach growling and once again on the prowl for any available food, Willy crept through the sugar meadow and towards the Bucket's house. Relieved to see the lights still on, he stalked closer and tapped lightly at the door. Mr Bucket opened it.

"Willy, hi. What do you want?"

"Food!" whined Willy. Mr Bucket opened the door and Willy slunk through the portal in cat-like fashion, sitting on a chair without a word. He looked over to the grandparents' bed and realised they were all asleep. Charlie was nowhere to be seen and Willy assumed he had gone to bed. Mrs Bucket waved sleepily at Willy and he suddenly felt very uncomfortable at having intruded. Mr Bucket put a plate of leftovers in front of Willy and yawned.

"Where have you been all day?"

"The Inventing Room. I've perfected the Christmas Trees – we can start production tomorrow and have them in shops by the end of the week."

"That's nice dear," yawned Mrs Bucket, nodding into her shoulder. Willy picked up the plate of scraps and stood.

"I'll take this back to my room," said Willy. "Thanks for helping me out today."

"That's okay honey," mumbled Mrs Bucket. Mr Bucket nodded and crossed to his wife.

"See you tomorrow, Willy," said Mr Bucket.

"Yeah, bye," answered Willy, ushering himself out as quickly as possible. He hadn't realised the Buckets went to bed so early. That wasn't particularly surprising, as he usually went to his room after dinner and stayed up reading until the small hours so he had little idea of what went on in the chocolate room after his departure. Munching on a chicken leg as the elevator ferried him to his room, Willy wondered what the Green Dragon would be like. And whether Rosanna really did just want to be friends. And what he should wear. Most importantly, he wondered if he even liked Thai food.

Rising at six the next morning, Willy was downstairs and in the Buckets' front garden well before there were any signs of life from inside the house. He sat down, cross-legged and facing the door, and waited. Eventually, he heard a clatter of pans and decided it was time to make his presence known. He stood and walked to the door, tapping lightly with his cane on the frame. The door was opened by a sleepy Charlie, still in his pyjamas. Charlie swallowed and looked at Willy with only one eye open.

"Good morning Mr Wonka," yawned Charlie. Willy stretched his arms backwards and gave an enormous fake yawn in response.

"Good morning Charlie," drawled Willy, pretending to rub sleep out of his eyes. "Can I come in?"

"Of course, sir," said Charlie, moving out of the way. Willy removed his hat and dropped it onto the barrel next to the door along with his cane.

"Good morning Buckets," he said, in Mr Bucket's voice. Mrs Bucket, Mr Bucket, Charlie, Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine laughed, but Grandpa George scowled. Willy grinned, pleased his impersonation had been so accurate.

"What are you, a bloody mynah bird?" grumbled Grandpa George. Willy decided it was time for payback and walked over to the bed, ruffling up what was left of Grandpa George's hair.

"And how's my favourite old grouch this morning?" asked Willy, cheekily. He received a dark look from Grandpa George and sensibly backed off, grinning happily all the while just to annoy the old man even more. Grandma Georgina laughed at the look on her husband's face. Willy sat down at his usual place and was joined shortly by Charlie and Mr Bucket. In the background, Grandpa George could be heard muttering obscenities under his breath while Mrs Bucket fixed breakfast.

"Looking forward to tonight, Willy?" asked Mr Bucket.

"I don't know," said Willy, truthfully. "I've never been to a Thai restaurant."

"At least you know the company will be pleasant," said Mrs Bucket from the corner.

"I suppose so. Michael?"

"Yes Willy?"

"What am I expected to do tonight?" There was the sound of three people choking on their morning tea in the background and a clatter from the corner of the room. Mr Bucket kept a perfectly straight face as he replied.

"What do you mean?" he asked carefully.

"Well, do I have to pay?" Grandpa George coughed violently and Mrs Bucket ran over to help. "The meal was her idea, but I'm sure I read somewhere that because I'm the man I should be paying for the food. Is your father alright?" asked Willy, looking over to the now purple-faced Grandpa George who was sputtering and telling Mrs Bucket not to make a fuss.

"Yes, he just has a problem with his throat," lied Mr Bucket smoothly.

"And do I take a present?"

"It is usual, yes."

"But she might get the wrong idea!" said Willy, voicing a concern that had worried him since at least 6:43 that morning. "She said that we are friends, but if I take her a present she's going to think I want her to be my g-g-girlfriend," he finished quickly. The strange tight feeling in his chest had returned and he thought that maybe he would have to cancel tonight after all.

"I think she knows you well enough to know that if you wanted her as your girlfriend you'd just ask her, not give her a box of chocolates or a bunch of flowers." Mr Bucket knew this was probably true – he just didn't know it for sure.

"Oh good. And, oh hold on…" said Willy, pulling a card from his pocket. "Oh, you've already answered the next question," he muttered, reading the card. Mr Bucket gently took the card from Willy's hand and read through the remaining questions, all of which had been entered on the branches of what looked like a classification tree. He read the question, "If yes, what should I take?" and grinned inwardly. Mr Bucket scanned the card again and gave it back to Willy.

"In answer to your other questions, yes you should offer to escort her home, yes you should pay for a taxi if you cannot and yes the elevator would be a very good idea as a means of getting there, but make sure you can park it somewhere first." He saw Willy exhale in relief.

"Thanks," said Willy.

"Would you like me to show you where the restaurant is this afternoon when I get back from work?" asked Mr Bucket.

"That would be very kind, thank you." Willy relaxed back into the dining chair and closed his eyes briefly. He'd pick up some flowers at the same time Mr Bucket showed him the restaurant and take a box of chocolates from the storeroom. Nothing too fancy, thought Willy, and certainly not one of the heart boxes. Something plain and tasty, not sugary and sentimental. The cramped feeling in his ribcage loosening a little, Willy opened his eyes and smiled at Mrs Bucket as she placed his breakfast in front of him. He had a feeling that this was going to be an exceedingly interesting day.

At three o'clock, Rosanna fussed in front of the rusty mirror in her dingy hotel room. She had, in total, three dresses, two skirts and one top left to wear before she would be forced to find a laundrette, none of which were suitable to wear that evening. On her bed was a statement printed from the cash machine that morning. She had put the money from the sale of her parents' house – a modest sum, as they had still owed on their mortgage, but enough to buy a small flat – into a savings fund, her pay from the circus going into her main bank account. The thin paper receipt showed she had less than a thousand pounds left – hardly enough for her to see out the next fortnight at the rate she'd been buying train tickets and hotel accommodation. Nevertheless, she'd drawn out a hundred pounds in cash to pay for the meal and drinks tonight, knowing that Willy would very probably have little idea of how to clear the bill. She considered her flounced, pink top again and shook her head. It wasn't suitable, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise. She sighed and picked up her handbag, checking three times for the essentials – purse, mobile phone and keys – before wrapping her large, brown wax coat around her and tying the belt in the approximate position of her waist and heading out of the door.

At six o'clock, Willy was running late. He was also running from his boat and through the chocolate room, soot over his coat and hair, his face blackened and a decidedly singed smell lingering in his wake. He threw himself into the elevator and hit the button for his room.

"Stupid thing," he muttered, taking off his top hat and patting an area that was still smouldering slightly, finally stopping the plume of white smoke billowing from the brim. Willy had decided, against Charlie's better judgement, that it was worth experimenting on one of the fizzy-lifting drinks to see if it could be made into a warm drink. The ensuing explosion had devastated the room, despite the sprinkler system killing the flames within seconds. Willy remembered leaping for safety only moments after the explosion and thanking his lucky stars that he'd been the only one in the room. He wondered at how the mixture, so harmless when cold, had managed to go critical at only 63 degrees. Perhaps the product needed more testing before going onto the market. He had left instructions for a factory fire-crew to check the room and those near-by for any possible mini-fires that may have escaped detection by the sprinkler system. This wasn't the first time he'd set fire to a room, but it was the first time since the Buckets had moved in and he had a feeling they wouldn't approve of what had happened. It was mainly for this reason that he had determined to go out with Rosanna despite the disaster, in order that he might avoid any uncomfortable questions this evening. He was left with only half-an-hour to get ready, his coat was ruined and he reeked of burnt fabric. Running into his room, he was surprised to see Mr Bucket there. Both men looked each other up and down before either spoke.

"What happened to you?"

"Why are you here?" asked Willy in response.

"To give you these," said Mr Bucket, holding out a gaudy bunch of red roses wrapped in white and red cellophane. "You left them on the table after we got back earlier."

"Thanks," said Willy, ferreting through his wardrobe for clean clothes, throwing the items onto the chair behind him as they were found. He pulled out his black velvet coat and brushed an imaginary speck of dirt off it before laying it on top of the paisley shirt, a bright purple waistcoat and black trousers.

"Could I make a suggestion?" asked Mr Bucket, walking to the wardrobe and pulling out a plain white shirt together with a white silk waistcoat, cut into a low 'v' and quite different in style to those Willy usually wore.

"Ew, boring," said Willy.

"More appropriate, if you insist on wearing that coat," said Mr Bucket. "So what happened?" he asked, nodding at Willy's appearance.

"Accident. Fizzy-lifting drinks explode when you heat them."

"So why did you heat one up?"

"I only found out they were unstable ten minutes ago," deadpanned Willy, heading for the bathroom.

"Are you ready for tonight? You remember where the restaurant is?"

"Yes, you showed me three times."

"Have fun," said Mr Bucket, heading for door to the hallway, intent on taking the stairs as he knew Willy would need the elevator.

"I will," said Willy, waving then running into the shower and hoping he'd get out on time for dinner.

Rosanna hopped uneasily from one foot to the other, the new shoes pinching slightly. She hated heels, but somehow her walking boots just wouldn't have suited the rest of her outfit. Not that the large, ungainly brown wax coat did either, but at least she'd be taking that off inside the restaurant. She had made the effort to put her hair up for the evening and applied make-up, something she hadn't done since her last night in the ring at the circus. The lump above her eye was still noticeable, but she looked reasonably normal and hoped it wasn't too obvious. Rosanna had thought a lot about Willy over the last few hours. She liked the fact he had felt comfortable enough to sit down next to her in the meadow and was flattered that he had been so happy when she'd asked to go back to complete the tour. She wasn't sure how she felt about his flights of fancy and strange inventions, on one hand applauding his intelligence and on the other worrying that some of the things he had created were grossly unnatural. Her opinion on genetic manipulation aside, she was scared at how nonchalantly Willy could pass off seemingly impossible inventions as just part of the mystery that was Mr Willy Wonka and his factory. Rosanna felt her stomach flip as she remembered Fudge Mountain and how Willy had leaned out to collect the icing sugar fog without a care. She still wondered why she'd been so desperate to meet Willy again, the idea of the meal now seeming ridiculous to her. Still pondering, she jumped when a clatter from an alleyway followed by the screech of a cat broke the chill silence.

Willy Wonka appeared from the alley, coat tails flying behind him, black top hat perched on his head, a plain, black cane twirling in his left hand, his right hidden behind his back. As he drew level, Rosanna noticed that his hair was still a little damp and smiled – obviously someone had got ready in a rush. Willy noticed her smile and returned it a little nervously. Then Rosanna remembered why she'd wanted to see him again so badly – that wonderful, shy little smile that melted her heart, together with the deep, violet eyes that made her want to cry as she lost herself in them. Rosanna swallowed, remembering it was rude to stare and held out her hand.

"You're early," she commented as Willy shook her hand in greeting. Willy reached down to examine his pocket watch and Rosanna noticed the white shirt and waistcoat, set off by the golden brooch at Willy's neck in place of a cravat or tie. He looks like a groom, thought Rosanna. Pity I'm not the blushing bride… Then she noticed the usual purple gloves and amended her mental image from groom to Jack the Ripper. Part of her earlier musing had led her to the conclusion that it was highly unlikely Willy would want anything to do with her if he suspected for a second that she liked him as anything more than a friend at this early stage. She wasn't even sure that she did, convinced that most of her fascination was based on looks alone. Much as she liked Willy, she knew that his ego, despite the confident façade, was a fragile beast and best not toyed with until she was sure of what she wanted. It would hurt him too much if she convinced him to go out with her, only to realise she wasn't interested and break off the relationship, destroying his faith in her. Far better to keep him as a friend until she was sure of her feelings herself. Willy replaced the pocket watch as it chimed seven and gestured towards the restaurant.

"Shall we?" His eyes swept over the scruffy, threadbare wax coat and he felt a twinge of disappointment that Rosanna hadn't made much of an effort with her clothing. Admittedly, if the explosion hadn't wiped out his purple coat for the second time that year, he'd have arrived in his 'work clothes' but even they were preferable to what she was wearing. Miffed, he walked ahead of Rosanna, handing his hat, cane and coat to the doorman as he entered, retrieving his wallet and receiving a ticket in exchange for his clothing. He smiled at the petite Asian woman behind the front desk.

"Name?" she asked. Willy realised he didn't know if Rosanna had made the booking under Derby or Wonka. He turned to ask and instantly forgot the question as he saw Rosanna. He had been expecting some kind of scruffy dress under the coat. He had not expected a rich blue, shimmering cocktail dress with matching blue heels. The dress reached down to Rosanna's calves, clung to her figure and dipped to a 'v' on her chest. Willy fixated on the silver locket around Rosanna's neck, only slowly moving his gaze to the strappy sleeves as she turned to give her coat to the doorman, revealing that the dress was backless down to waist level. Rosanna turned back and saw Willy's face, his mouth slightly open as he stared at her. She grinned to herself and walked up to Willy.

"Derby, table for two at seven," she said in a clear and confident voice to the woman behind the desk, pretending she hadn't noticed the rose and chocolates in Willy's right hand. The woman waved to a waiter.

"Table six," she instructed and the waiter half-bowed to Rosanna and Willy before indicating that they should follow him. Willy paused for only a moment before trotting after Rosanna, unsure of where to look. Some of the other diners were just as over-dressed as himself and Rosanna and he wondered if this was why she'd chosen the restaurant – perhaps she knew he could blend in a little better here than elsewhere? The familiar tight feeling around his chest returned.

"I wondered when you'd show up," muttered Willy quietly, finding it difficult to breathe. He sat down swiftly as the waiter held the chair out for him and forced his face to remain neutral. "These are for you," he said to Rosanna, sweeping the rose and chocolates over the table and presenting them to her with unusual clumsiness. He'd decided to dispense with the rest of the bouquet, thinking that more than one rose would be difficult to cope with in a restaurant setting. Rosanna was touched by the gift and tucked the rose into the vase of sweet-peas on the table to keep it fresh. She hid the tiny box of chocolates into her handbag, smiling back at Willy before speaking.

"Thanks – they're lovely. You look nice," she complimented, trying to keep her tone light.

"So do you. Excuse me – I just need some air!" said Willy, running from the table and disappearing outside the restaurant. Rosanna sighed and looked up at the wine waiter, ignoring the confused look on his face.

"Two glasses of the house white please," said Rosanna, determining not to make any more personal comments tonight.

Five minutes later, Willy returned looking far calmer than he had been. He sat down, smiling broadly at Rosanna and regarded the menu in front of him.

"Are you alright?" asked Rosanna.

"Yes – I've just had a very long day and I'm tired," lied Willy, trying to work out what to order. He'd spent the last five minutes reminding himself of the pleasant day yesterday and how he was hoping to make a friend out of Rosanna, not scare her off because he'd developed a physical allergy to her presence. He knew he could get over that, and pushed the problem of his rapid pulse to the back of his mind for the time being.

"Oh dear, what happened?"

"An accident," said Willy. "I blew a room up, nothing major."

"How?" asked Rosanna, fascinated. She looked at his face, wondering how to make him feel better.

"I heated up something that shouldn't have been heated. My own fault really." Willy looked around the table for something to do to distract him from the conversation and spotted his glass. "Is that wine?"

"Yes – don't tell me you don't drink?"

"Of course I do! Just not very often," said Willy. In truth, the only time he'd drunk in the last year had been a few months earlier with his father and before that he'd only sampled some liquors in order to choose the best for his liquor chocolates. Way back before closing the factory, when he still trusted his workers and fellow chocolatiers, there had been wine dinners and champagne launches for new products and whiskey had flowed freely at the Christmas parties… but nothing of the sort had happened in the last ten years. He'd always been a lightweight in any case, limiting himself to a glass per party in order to maintain some degree of control and not let himself down in front of his workers. Willy always wondered why some people drunk themselves into a stupor, given that he felt bad enough the next day after only one drink.

"Good. I'm glad I didn't offend you by ordering that," said Rosanna, pointing to Willy's glass.

"No offence taken. How was your day?" asked Willy, taking a sip of the wine and risking a glance at Rosanna. He swallowed the drink with difficulty, unaccustomed to the bitter taste of alcohol.

"It was fine – I bought a dress," she said, waving a hand at her clothing.

"It's lovely. You look very nice in it," said Willy, aware that his voice was faltering by the end of the sentence. He forced himself to look directly at her and smiled. "If I'm allowed to say that, as a friend."

"Friends should always be honest with each other."

"Then – honestly – the dress is outstanding. You should wear it around the factory when you come back for the tour."

"I don't think your father would approve," laughed Rosanna.

"Who says he has to know?" said Willy, resting his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together. Rosanna blushed and Willy was taken aback at how her eyes sparkled when she did that, lowering his left arm and resting his chin on the remaining upright hand. "You really do look wonderful when you smile my dear, you should do it more often." Willy had never had the opportunity to flirt before and wasn't aware that he was doing so now, staring intently into Rosanna's eyes and giving her his undivided attention. She stared back, smoothing some hair out of her eyes and combing back a loose strand that was playing over her neck. Willy followed the movement with his eyes, enjoying the giddy feeling of not being able to predict what was going to happen next. The moment was broken by the arrival of the waiter ready to take their order.

"Oh, um…" started Rosanna. "I know what I'd like, but do you?"

"Just order for me, I've never eaten Thai food before."

"Okay, we'd like set menu B please." The waiter made a note and disappeared, taking the menus with him.

"Interesting name for a dish," said Willy dryly.

"It's a selection of dishes, so it's probably safer as you might not like all of them."

"You're the boss," said Willy, smiling back at her. He was feeling rather pleased at his decision to come out tonight, not that he'd needed convincing to do so by anyone else of course. "So, tell me about yourself. I know you used to compete, but what else? Where are you from?"

"Peterborough. I grew up on my parents' farm and then when I was ten I joined a horse gymnastics team. When I was sixteen I started touring and competing with that team and the rest you know."

"How old are you?" asked Willy, vaguely aware that it was a rude question.

"Thirty-two. And you?"

"Thirty-nine. When do you turn thirty-three?"

"My birthday's in May."

"Oh, mine's in October."

"When?"

"The 27th." Willy watched as Rosanna worked out the days.

"Not the day we…"

"Yep," said Willy, drinking some more wine as he raised his eyebrows as part of his response. He fought back the instinctive wince, hiding behind the wine glass until he was sure it was safe. There was nothing for it – he'd have to have a soft drink after this.

"I'm so sorry," said Rosanna. "That was a lousy present."

"The hot chocolate made up for it though." Willy paused and looked down. "What I meant was…"

"Don't spoil it," whispered Rosanna. Willy smiled vaguely and felt butterflies around his midriff. He felt Rosanna's hand touch his own lightly and glared at it, startled by the sudden contact. She jerked her hand back quickly. "Sorry."

"No problem. Hey, look – food!" Willy pointed at a large gold tray that a waiter carried smartly to their table before presenting it first to Willy and then to Rosanna. The waiter set the dish in the middle of the table and proceeded to describe the dishes while a waitress, dressed in a red cheongsam, set out their plates for them. Rosanna smiled at the waitress and both diners paused briefly to admire the beauty of the platter in front of them – the mix of dishes for their starter presented on a bed of lettuce and bamboo leaves and decorated with flowers carved from vegetables such as radishes and carrots.

"How lovely," said Rosanna.

"Which bits are we allowed to eat?" asked Willy. Rosanna rolled her eyes at him and picked up a chicken skewer, gesturing for him to follow suit.

Rosanna's second slip from her self-imposed "don't push too hard" rule came during the main course. Intimidated by the five different dishes in front of them (which Willy had christened something-with-duck, something-with-fish, something-with-beef, something-with-pork and yes, you guessed it, something-with-vegetables), Willy had taken to waiting for her to try each one and proclaim it 'eatable' before sampling the tiniest morsel himself. When she got to the fourth dish (the duck) she held out a piece on her fork and looked indignantly at Willy.

"I can't eat this if you're staring at me. You eat it," she said moving the tip of the fork within range of his mouth.

"Off your fork? Gross," said Willy. A couple on the next table had been listening and laughed at the furious expression on Rosanna's face. Willy suddenly understood and, fighting the urge to gag, sampled the duck from Rosanna's fork. He chewed thoughtfully. "Not as pleasant as the pork, but still very flavoursome," he announced. He took a sideways glance at the couple on the next table, who were now gazing into each other's eyes with sickening enthusiasm. "Their food's going to get cold," he said quietly.

"Probably," answered Rosanna, a little sourly. She hadn't thought about Willy's aversion to her and everyone else of his species until after she'd offered the duck and was feeling a little foolish and embarrassed, chasing a stray shrimp around her plate with the offending fork.

"Hey, cheer up. It's not as if you can help having cooties."

"Cooties?" asked Rosanna, stopping her torture of the piece of seafood and staring at Willy in disbelief.

"Yeah – Dad told me all girls like you have them. Actually, no he didn't, but someone did. What do they look like?"

"Are you sure you mean cooties? And what do you mean girls like me?"

"Pretty ones of course!"

"Willy…" warned Rosanna.

"Girls that…" Willy's sense of self-preservation kicked in and he stopped himself. There was something scary in Rosanna's eyes that he hadn't seen before.

"Go on," said Rosanna sweetly, smiling at Willy and batting her eyelashes. "I'm interested. Girls that…" Willy fell for it and continued.

"Girls that like to kiss all the boys and spread throat diseases and stuff."

"Girls that kiss all the boys…" said Rosanna through gritted teeth. "Is that what you think I am?"

"Well, you are pretty and I bet you've kissed loads of boys." Willy realised too late that he was at the bottom of a dangerously deep pit and was still digging.

"How dare you!"

"It probably wasn't even you who started off with cooties – you might not even have them…" said Willy, trying to sink under the table as Rosanna's nostrils flared alarmingly.

"Let me get this straight, you think that because I'm 'pretty' as you put it, I must have kissed dozens if not hundreds of boys and men?"

"Haven't you?" said Willy.

"None of your damn business!" shouted Rosanna, slamming down her fork. "Excuse me a minute," she stood and stormed off to the toilets. Willy realised that everyone in this corner of the restaurant was staring at him and his face flushed with embarrassment. The dark-haired young man from the couple next to him leaned over.

"I'd apologise to your girlfriend mate."

"She's not my girlfriend," said Willy. "We're just good friends."

"Not anymore you're not," said the young man, moving back to his own table and turning his attention back to his besotted partner. Willy felt awful. He hadn't meant to insult Rosanna. She had insisted he explain what he meant by "cooties." He had a feeling that perhaps "cooties" were things you were supposed to forget about once you got to his age and suddenly felt totally out of his depth. The waiter arrived to clear the table, but Willy motioned for him to leave the plates.

"Wait a few more minutes please," he begged, reaching over for Rosanna's plate having suddenly had an idea.

Rosanna blew her nose and looked into the mirror above the sink. She couldn't believe that Willy had just accused her of being… like that. Not after she'd been forcing herself to try and think of him as nothing more than a friend all evening despite the fact she was aching to find out what kind of kisser he was. Oh, God, she thought, he's not right is he? I'm not… like that… am I? She counted up the number of boys she'd kissed. Okay, there was her boyfriend, Ben, when she was fourteen. Then there was Richard at 16, then a dry spell until she was 19 when she'd gone berserk at a Christmas party. She added eight more to the total, unsure of two of the names. Then there was no-one until Heath. And no-one since, although if Willy ever found out what she'd done with Heath, he'd be worried about more than just "cooties." Hell, her and Heath had broken up nearly seven years ago when he'd found out… Rosanna bit her lip and tried to force the memory away. _When he found out that I couldn't have children_. She sniffed a little, but didn't cry. From what she'd heard, Heath had retired from riding and was now a schoolteacher in Hull, living with his wife and two small children. She was pleased for him – Heath had been lovely. Most of the time. Angry now that Willy had brought back memories she hadn't wanted to ever experience again, she set her head at what she hoped what a confident angle and strutted out to the restaurant, intent on telling him to forget the rest of the tour if that's what he thought of her and that he could forget being friends. She walked over to the table and saw Willy's hopeful expression and soulful eyes looking up at her.

"Willy I'm not hungry anymore and I'd like to go home."

"Are you sure? We haven't had dessert."

"I know, but thanks to your earlier insults I'm…no…longer…" she stopped as she saw her plate. There, decorated with the carved flowers from the meal, was the word "Sorry" written in plum sauce in Willy's handwriting. Of all the silly, childish, ridiculous, sweet, Wonka-ish things to do… She half-grinned and sat down,pointing to the plate. "This doesn't begin to make up for what you said, you do realise that don't you?" Willy nodded and walked around the table, taking her hand in his and kneeling down. The restaurant hushed, expecting a proposal.

"I'm sorry and you have every right to hate me and never want to see me again but I beg you on bended knee not to abandon me now. You are a beautiful, intelligent lady who any man would be a fool not to want as a friend. Please forgive me." Hesitating only slightly, Willy brought Rosanna's hand to his lips and kissed it, taking in the scent of the perfume on her wrist. It reminded him of the night at the factory gates when she'd walked him home and he closed his eyes to relive the memory. Rosanna smiled and nodded as the rest of the diners, slightly disappointed at the lack of a proposal, 'awwed' in appreciation.

"You're forgiven." Willy produced the rose from earlier and gently tucked it into Rosanna's hair. She felt an unexpected thrill as he stroked her hair and sighed happily. "Oh Willy, you soppy thing," she giggled, pecking him lightly on the right cheek. She froze and Willy tensed, his eyes bulging slightly. "Come on now – get up or we'll never have pudding," she covered, allowing Willy to get up and sit down in his place without creating another scene. Rosanna covered her face with her hand. How could she have done that…

After dessert, which was spent in silence with the odd awkward look, Willy cleared the bill and waited expectantly at the door of the restaurant for Rosanna as she shrugged into her awful brown coat. She caught up with him and looked up into his eyes.

"You didn't have to pay the bill you know."

"Yes I did. Especially after I upset you. How are you getting home?"

"I thought I'd walk. It's only two minutes away."

"Can I escort you?"

"Don't be silly, it's not far."

"It's the least I can do. It's that or I'm going to have to insist we go in the elevator."

"I would prefer you to walk me."

"I thought you might say that." He gallantly offered his left arm to Rosanna who, in her drab coat, felt like Cinderella on the arm of her Prince Charming. Not that he was particularly charming, thought Rosanna. She'd made up her mind over dessert that, despite Willy's faults, she did enjoy his company and even though his mouth sometimes ran off without the intervention of his brain, he did have a good heart. She'd also run the 'test' as she put it. So many of her friends had entered into relationships with guys saying that "I can't see us staying together, but it might be fun for a few months." Rosanna didn't see the point – either you liked a guy and were prepared to take the chance he might be the one for you, or you didn't and that was that. She couldn't see herself as the type who would be bored after a few months and find someone else to replace Willy. So she'd tested herself over dessert with "how would I feel if he did just want to be friends?" She'd answered, "gutted." "How would I feel if we never saw each other again?" "Devastated." Rosanna had never been one to do things by half – so was now concocting a long-term plan to woo Willy Wonka. She looked up at the silly top-hat as they walked and smiled. This was going to take a lot of effort.

Willy tried to ignore the butterflies as he walked Rosanna back to her hotel. She appeared to have forgiven him completely, but he was wary of saying anything that might upset her again and so bit back his usual quips and childlike antics. They turned a corner into a dark street that Willy didn't like the look of at all. He reached his right hand over and covered Rosanna's hand on his arm, grinning in the darkness when the action made her jump.

"Sorry," said Willy, removing his hand.

"Oh no problem," replied Rosanna, hoping that the action meant he was as confused as she was about how he felt.

"This is a horrible street," said Willy outside an old, dark building with one window boarded up. He eyes a group of teenagers warily. They didn't look the sort who appreciated chocolate and the smell from the group was not burning tobacco either.

"And this is my hotel," said Rosanna, stopping outside the building next to the one with the boarded up window.

"You're not serious," said Willy, eyes widening.

"I couldn't afford better. Anyway, thanks very much for a nice evening Mr Wonka," she smiled, holding out a hand.

"You're welcome, Miss Derby. When might I see you again?"

"Tomorrow?"

"I'll call here at nine."

"You don't have to," said Rosanna.

"Of course I do," said Willy with a smile. "That's what gentlemen do," he bowed, making the teenagers point and laugh. He ignored them and took Rosanna's hand, shaking it. "Goodnight Rosanna."

"Goodnight Willy." She relaxed her hand, allowing Willy to remove his whenever he wanted to. To her disappointment, he removed it almost immediately and touched the brim of his hat as he turned away from her. She watched him disappear up the street and around the corner before heading up the stairs to the hotel. Moments later she was in her room, a smile plastered all over her face. She hoped that he would eventually want to be with her, but knew better than to rush things. Later, cold in the damp room, Rosanna concentrated on the image of Willy's eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

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	13. Questions and crashes

While Rosanna was snuggling into her pillow, drifting off to sleep thinking of Willy's eyes, Willy was standing in the glass elevator just above the level of the factory roof. He was feeling puzzled, and he wasn't entirely sure why. He'd eaten some delicious food, in good company. He'd insulted said company, but then apologised and everything seemed to be fine now. He had done his duty as a gentleman and ensured that Rosanna got home safely, even if he didn't approve of the locale of her hotel. He hadn't enjoyed arguing with her and was rather shaken to have had his theory on cooties blown out of the water. The conversation over the evening had been… interesting and when she'd touched him it hadn't felt as creepy as he had previously thought it would. After all, Mrs Bucket had pecked him on the cheek dozens of times in the last few months, although when she kissed him it didn't tickle as much as Rosanna's kiss had. He figured he was probably hypersensitive to lipstick, something Mrs Bucket rarely wore but which he'd noticed on Rosanna's lips. That would be it. Willy stared at the plain grey roof and pursed his lips. Despite his logical dissection of the evening's events, something still wasn't quite right. There was, in the smooth clockwork of the mechanism of the evening, one cog that was spinning wildly and threatening to bring the whole system down. And Willy couldn't work out where that cog was. He sighed and shifted position uncomfortably in the elevator, aware that it was getting late and he should probably be getting to bed if he was going out again in the morning. His stomach flipped as he thought about meeting Rosanna again and he placed a gentle hand on his midriff. He realised that none of his logical hypotheses had not as yet explained away the butterflies and identified them as the spinning cog. That didn't help him identify why something was wrong, but at least now he had some idea of what to look out for in future meetings with Rosanna. If she was going to become a long-term friend, they were going to have to find out ways to avoid the butterflies or he was going to end up with an ulcer the size of a golf ball within the next year. Willy decided to discuss the problem with Rosanna the next day and pressed the button for his rooms, too tired for further deliberation on the subject. There was an awkward moment as he guided the elevator onto the docking rails, then a rushing silence as the elevator glided to Willy's bedroom without further ado. Within a few minutes of arriving, Willy was flat on his back in bed, still fighting the feeling that something wasn't quite right about this evening in order to try and sleep. Eventually, he won the battle and drifted off to oblivion.

Charlie stuffed a piece of toast into his mouth and nodded.

"Yes mum," he muttered through the bread.

"Good. And call me if you decide to spend the night at John's."

"I will mum."

"Off you go – and have fun!" Charlie ducked out of the door to the house and trotted off to the hallway, aware that his mother's nagging had very probably made him late for school. It wasn't often that Charlie made plans to out with his friends overnight, but every time he faced an endless stream of questions about whom he would be with and where they would be. Charlie wished that his mother wasn't quite so over-protective at times, but part of him was rather pleased at her concern even if he wouldn't admit it to anyone else. Lost in his thoughts, Charlie was almost out of the main doors when a flutey voice called him back.

"Charlie!"

"Yes?" said Charlie, turning to see Willy trotting to catch him up. "What is it Mr Wonka?"

"Wait up! I'll give you a lift to school, no pun intended of course," said Willy, slowing down and hailing the elevator to the nearest port. Charlie wondered what his classmates would think if he turned up in a flying elevator, then realised he didn't have a choice and ran over to where Willy was waiting.

"Why? What's the occasion?"

"I'm going out and we haven't had a chance to chat for a few days so I thought – why not?" Willy slipped on his enormous sunglasses and grinned at Charlie, stepping through the elevator doors as it ground to a halt in front of them.

"Why not indeed?" said Charlie, following Willy into the elevator. They didn't speak until they were clear of the factory, taking in the early-morning views of the various rooms coming back to life after the quiet of the night before. Unlike many factory owners, Willy did not run his machines continuously and always gave the Oompa-Loompas the night off, the efficiency of the cleaning teams making the night-shift obsolete.

"Are you looking forward to seeing your friends tonight?" asked Willy.

"Yeah – John's renting a movie and a gang of us are sleeping over. Mum thinks I shouldn't be going because there's school tomorrow."

"I know, she told me."

"What do you think?" asked Charlie, looking up at Willy's face and hoping for back-up.

"I think that, as long as you make sure you don't let your mother down and that you get into school on time tomorrow, there should be no problem."

"Thanks. How did it go last night?"

"Fine, fine," said Willy, looking down at the town below.

"Really?" said Charlie, eyebrows raised as he hefted his bag onto his shoulder.

"Well, I'm seeing her again this morning aren't I?" defended Willy.

"Cool. Does she still make you feel sick?" asked Charlie.

"No. Yes. Maybe," answered Willy, recalling the butterflies. "But she doesn't make me hurt anymore, so that's probably a good sign."

"Or faint."

"Mumbler…"

"You know, that really made Grandpa George's day that did, you passing out cold on the kitchen floor."

"Good for Grandpa George." Willy peered down at a green field with two pairs of rugby posts. "Is this the school?"

"Yes. Could you land out back?"

"Of course. Is that car park okay?" Charlie nodded in response and Willy guided the elevator down between two parked cars. He saw Charlie's face flicker and put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's nothing really," said Charlie.

"You're not being bullied again are you?" asked Willy.

"No. Not as such." Charlie put his head down and weighed his bag over his shoulder again. Willy crouched down and lifted Charlie's chin with a gloved hand.

"What's up squirt?"

"It's my year leader. She says that if I don't pay more attention in class she's going to write home to Mum and Dad and tell them my grades are slipping."

"So? Pay more attention in class. Problem solved."

"It's not that easy – everyone keeps asking about the factory at breaktime and I'd much rather be there than in school. The lessons are so boring and the only friends I've got are John and Sally. I'm just so tired of everyone else. Even some of the teachers are more interested in you than in me." Willy wrinkled his nose in disgust and removed his sunglasses to examine Charlie more closely.

"It's not easy being different, is it?"

"No."

"What kind of questions do they ask you?" asked Willy, considering something and not really listening to Charlie's reply.

"What is Mr Wonka like? Why can't we come to see you? What happened to his hair?" Charlie grinned as Willy looked affronted and carried on. "What new candies is he making?"

"No relatives of Prodnose or Slugworth in your class are there?"

"Not that I know of." Charlie looked at his wristwatch and sighed. "I've got to go – I'm going to be late if I don't."

"I'll walk you up to your tutor room." When Charlie opened his mouth to protest, Willy put a finger to his lips and silenced him. "Have some faith Charlie." Willy stood and headed out of the elevator, pausing for Charlie to follow him before locking it with one of the many keys on his chain. He allowed Charlie to lead the way, swinging his cane as he walked and taking in the institutionalised décor of the red-bricked building. The school was small, with only a thousand pupils, so accordingly all the passageways were narrow and cramped in order to fit as many pupils into as small a place as possible. The corridor leading to Charlie's tutor room was painted vomit yellow and smelled of gym shoes, being slightly downwind of the P.E. rooms. It was packed with pupils, who all gaped as they saw the tall, lean chocolatier strolling down the corridor with little care for his surroundings. In reality, Willy was more than a little nervous but was hoping that the shock of his sudden appearance would prevent his being rushed by the small humans around him. Thankfully, the rotund form of Mrs Stubbs bustled up the corridor at twenty to nine, scattering her young tutees as she advanced. She stopped short of the door and looked up at Willy, who removed his hat and held out a hand.

"You must be Mr Wonka," said Mrs Stubbs, looking from Willy to Charlie and back again.

"Yes. And you are?"

"Candice Stubbs, Charlie's tutor." She shook Willy's hand and opened the tutor room door, sending thirty small children into the room, each gazing at Willy with awe as they passed.

"In you go Charlie," said Willy, placing a hand in the middle of Charlie's back and pushing him forward slightly. Charlie followed his classmates in and took a seat between John and Sally, sinking down and trying to avoid the inquisitive stares of his fellow tutees. "Mrs Stubbs – could I please have a moment of your time?" asked Willy, closing the door of the classroom and folding his hands over the top of his cane, smiling slightly as he stepped in the way of the classroom door.

"I should really be in there, Mr Wonka, I can't leave my class unattended."

"One minute. You can see what they're doing through the glass," observed Willy, pointing to a dark-haired girl who was ogling him with ill-disguised fascination. Willy smiled and waved at the girl, watching her squeal and turn to her friends to brag. He rolled his eyes and turned back to the teacher. "Charlie's miserable. He doesn't want to come to school because he thinks his friends – and teachers – are more interested in me than in him. And his year leader is threatening to tell his parents he is underperforming."

"He is," agreed Mrs Stubbs. "I didn't know he was upset though."

"Could you just make sure the staff are aware of it? Charlie's a good lad Mrs Stubbs. He does want to do well at school, even though he will inherit the factory when he's older. Maybe if some of his teachers took more interest in him and his work than in his mentor, his grades would improve." Willy had grown stern and Mrs Stubbs momentarily neglected the automatic defence of her colleagues that her profession demanded, knowing full well that Willy was absolutely correct. Willy continued, "I know that he was being picked on in September. I never found out the details, but please keep an eye on him."

"I will Mr Wonka, will there be anything else?"

"Yes – take this," he handed her a business card. "Any problems – a drop in grades, a child picks on Charlie, he sneezes and you think he might be ill, you call my office. His parents or myself will be in touch once a month to see how Charlie's progressing."

"Thanks – I'm sure that Charlie appreciates your concern, Mr Wonka, as do I."

"One more thing." There was an awkward pause.

"Yes, Mr Wonka?"

"Would you mind if I came in and talked to the children one morning? It might stop them asking so many questions and hassling Charlie."

Mrs Stubbs twisted her hands and bit her lip. Willy tensed and regarded the woman with some trepidation. There was some twisted logic in what he said, much as she hated to admit it. She nodded and opened the door of the classroom, gesturing for Willy to enter. He gulped, not having expected his request to have been granted so easily. He recovered quickly, striding to the teacher's desk and perching daintily on the end as a finale to his entrance. The class hushed and Charlie raised his eyebrows in question. At the door, Mrs Stubbs had flagged down a passing female member of senior management and was explaining what was going on in frantic whispers.

"So, who has a question?" asked Willy, setting his hat and cane down on the desk. A forest of hands shot up and Willy pointed at the dark-haired girl who'd eyeballed him earlier.

"Are you married?"

"No." The girl giggled and whispered behind her hands to her friends. "How odd," muttered Willy, turning his attention to a chubby boy at the back of the room.

"What do you do all day?"

"I invent new chocolates, or make sure production is continuing as normal on our existing products. Sometimes I have a day off." He pointed at a skinny kid in the front row who looked remarkably like Mike Tevee.

"What subject did you like at school?"

"French," lied Willy, for lack of a better answer. He'd hated them all, eventually. Willy noticed that the senior member of staff and Mrs Stubbs were both leaning at the door, listening with just as much fascination as the children.

"What's your favourite chocolate?"

"What kind of music do you like?"

"Who does your hair?"

"Are your eyes really that colour?"

"Are there really elves in the factory?"

"Can you fly?" Willy answered these questions and more before the bell for the end of tutor time rang. He stood to leave and replaced his hat, nodding politely at the group of children before walking to the door. He winked at Charlie and left the classroom.

"Will that suffice do you think?" asked Willy.

"I believe so – I will be in touch if I think the children – especially Charlie - would benefit from a second visit," replied Mrs Stubbs. Willy touched his hat and half-bowed.

"Ladies…" he drawled and headed off, cane tapping along the tiled floor as he walked back to the elevator. He could have sworn that he heard both women giggle girlishly, but determined not to turn around. He knew he had only moments before the corridors would be filled with children, so darted out the nearest door and walked briskly to the car park. Letting himself into the elevator, Willy hoped that Charlie would be alright. He leaned back against the wall and looked down sadly at the school as the thrusters fired and the elevator rose higher above the town. He sighed and pulled out his pocket watch idly, more out of habit than anything else. Quarter-past-nine. If things didn't improve at school for Charlie, Willy would have to bring up the subject of private tutoring with Charlie's parents again. He acknowledged that Charlie needed to mix with people his own age. He just wasn't sure that the children in that classroom had been the best company for Charlie over the last few months. Willy's eyes found the rugby posts as the elevator drifted away from the school. He'd almost forgotten playing rugby at school. For some reason, despite the fact it was an outdoor sport, the "rugby season" was autumn and winter and Willy could remember slipping and sliding on the mud, always in the rain, trying desperately to stay as far away from the oddly shaped ball as possible in order to avoid being tackled and breaking his braces. He wondered why his teachers had never excused him P.E. – surely they could tell the braces were too cumbersome for him ever to be any good at the subject? He shook his head and looked down at the streets below him, picking out the Green Dragon on the high street. He smiled as he wondered what Rosanna would think of his inability to do well at any sports in school, given she'd been competing in international competitions at only 16. He jerked upright. Rosanna! He glanced back at the pocket watch. Half-past-nine!

"I'm late! I'm late!" shrieked Willy, fussing with the controls and forcing the elevator into a sharp turn. The elevator screamed towards Rosanna's hotel, Willy locked into a battle with the controls as he tried to make up time.

Rosanna threw the last errant sock into the large multi-purpose rucksack that today would serve as a vessel to carry her washing to the laundrette and punched the laundry down into the bag. Pulling the drawstring tight, she sniffed slightly as she tried to fight back her disappointment about Willy not turning up. It was nearly quarter to ten and she had by now given up all hope of his being delayed and on his way. She pulled the rucksack onto her back and paused briefly to scowl at her reflection in the mirror. Her pink top and blue jeans clashed awfully and her face was flushed with anger. She hung her head slightly – it was her fault that Willy had not turned up today – she'd evidently scared him off last night. Perhaps, if she was lucky, he might send a not explaining his actions later that day. Cursing herself, she grabbed at her handbag and checked for change and her keys. If only she hadn't pressured him the night before. She smiled encouragingly at herself in the mirror, trying to convince herself that all was not lost and that there was a chance Willy might still turn up. Just as she reached the door of her room, there was an almighty crash from the road outside.

Willy had managed to make the journey across town in record time. Unfortunately, his speedy arrival had meant he had not been concentrating fully on making the usual dignified landing. As Rosanna ran down the steps in front of the hotel, a cloud of dust was just settling on the pavement outside. Through the cloud, Rosanna saw a very pale Willy Wonka standing rigid inside the elevator, eyes closed and hands still hovering over the thruster controls. She approached cautiously, wondering both why he was so late and how on Earth the glass of the elevator hadn't shattered on impact. She tapped lightly on the elevator door and saw Willy open one cautious eye. He held his hands in front of his face for a moment, turning them over and over as if inspecting for damage. Then he opened the other eye and scanned the surface of the elevator before very cautiously opening the door and stepping out gingerly.

"Sorry I'm late," said Willy, raising his eyebrows as he dusted down his jacket and closed the elevator door behind him.

"Are you alright?" asked Rosanna, glancing behind him to the elevator.

"Yes… It was a rough landing, but the tempered glass seems to have served its purpose."

"You built it to survive an impact?"

"Of course! I wouldn't be standing here now if I had not," said Willy in a haughty voice.

"But you could not possibly have anticipated…"

"My dear, it had nothing to do with anticipation, simply the necessary process of risk assessment and limitation." He shrugged and added in a more normal tone, "Just occasionally, those loons in the health and safety offices in local government get something right.

"But what happened?"

"Too fast on the approach – applied the air-brakes too late. My first crash-landing actually. Do you have a telephone I might use?" The elevator gave a worrying creak and both Willy and Rosanna backed off to a safe distance.

"Here," said Rosanna, passing him her mobile. Willy ferreted around in his pockets for a moment before producing a business card, holding it in one hand and the mobile in the other. After a moment, Willy slowly keyed in the number for the factory and waited for a response.

"Ah yes, it's Willy here Mr Bucket. There's been a slight – accident – with the elevator." Rosanna watched as Willy moved the mobile away from his ear and winced. "No, Charlie's fine. I just landed a bit awkwardly and I'm concerned that some of the glass may have unseen stress fractures, particularly in the base." Rosanna looked at the elevator, which seemed fine but then she had no idea how much force it took to create a stress fracture in glass. "No, I don't think I should fly it back – if the base gave out we'd be talking splat city!" Rosanna hid a smile as Willy winced again. "No, of course I don't think this is a laughing matter. No, don't call my father I'm perfectly alright! Could you bring two of the trucks to, um…" Willy covered the mouthpiece. "What street is this?"

"Wright's Way."

"Two trucks to Wright's Way and you'll need the lifting thingy. The Oompa-Loompas will know. Yes, I'll be here. Could you make sure there's a spare seat – Rosanna's with me and I'm temporarily without transport? 'Kay. 'Kay. Yes. See you soon." Willy closed the clamshell and handed it back to Rosanna.

"He didn't sound too happy."

"He was more worried before he knew Charlie was safe. I'm sorry that we can't travel in the elevator today – the tour will take twice as long without it."

"That's okay, Willy, just so long as you are safe," replied Rosanna, catching herself simpering and coughing. "Why are you late?"

"I was talking to Charlie's teacher and lost track of time."

"Pretty, was she?" asked Rosanna automatically with a sarcastic grin.

"Not especially." There was an awkward pause. "If you don't want to come around the factory after this, I'll understand."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," said Rosanna, laying a hand on Willy's arm. He glanced down at the hand and smiled, realising that the dreaded butterflies had not returned and that he was finding the gesture quite calming after the panic of the landing. "Shall we sit over there while we wait for Mr Bucket?" She pointed towards a bench on the pavement. Willy nodded and they headed over.

"Look, about what I said last night," said Willy, sitting down, "I should never have said those things to you and…"

"Willy, I've already accepted your apology."

"I know, but I wanted you to understand why I was so… het up last night."

"Go on then," said Rosanna, settling herself at a reasonable distance from Willy but maintaining eye contact.

"It's just that the Buckets had teased me all day about you being my g- g- girlfriend."

"Oh," said Rosanna, feeling a little deflated.

"And then that guy at the table next to us said the same when you were in the toilets. I just didn't want last night to be anything more than just two friends having a nice dinner. But then when you touched me it hurt like you had electrodes in your hands and I felt like…" Willy waved his hands as he tried to find the right words to describe the rush of blood to the head and the butterflies in his stomach. "I felt like I was going to be sick because even though you said we were just friends I got the feeling you wanted more and it felt really odd inside," he finished, holding his stomach slightly. Rosanna felt like crying with disappointment, but covered it well, nodding at Willy in response. A thought suddenly occurred to her, appearing like a straw to a drowning man and she clutched at it desperately.

"Good odd or bad odd?" she asked quietly. Willy looked at her crestfallen face and faltered. He had left his explanation at 'odd' for the purposes of last night's theorising – he hadn't categorised the butterflies as good or bad.

"I'm not sure." He met Rosanna's eyes and felt a jolt of electricity run up his spine as she smiled. He suddenly sensed that his earlier choice of words may have been somewhat lacking in finesse.

"Let's find out shall we? Purely in the pursuit of scientific interest, of course," said Rosanna, taking a last chance at finding out whether it was worth pursuing Willy as a partner or not. She took Willy's right hand and clasped it tightly between both of hers. "Anything yet?"

"No, I've never had a problem with hands. It's the gloves you see, they keep out…" he stopped.

"The cooties, yes we've been over this before." She lifted his hand up for further inspection, occasionally stealing a glance at Willy's face to see how he was reacting to the treatment. His eyes were fixed on his hand, a look of intense concentration on his face. "How about this?" asked Rosanna, stroking the back of Willy's hand in circular motions with her fingertips. Willy twitched, but nothing more.

"Nothing."

"And now?" asked Rosanna, repeating the motion on the palm of Willy's hand. This time, Willy's hand curled and the twitch pulled his hand free of hers.

"Odd."'

"Good or bad?" Rosanna waited, hoping for an optimistic answer. She saw little point in pushing Willy further if her touch hurt him.

"Warm," grinned Willy, colouring slightly. "Not unpleasant," he admitted. In fact, the tickling sensation had felt quite nice. He squinted at Rosanna, wondering if maybe she did want to be more than just friends. Did he care either way? At that thought, his stomach clenched. "Oh, not good…" said Willy.

"What is it? Was it my fault?"

"No, I just thought of something and my stomach flipped over. It's nothing…" Willy clenched his hands together and looked away, afraid now to make himself appear any more of a fool although he couldn't understand why.

"Sure you don't want to talk about it?" asked Rosanna, laying a hand on Willy's arm. He tensed and looked down at it.

"I'm sure. But there is something I would like to about with you," he said, touching her hand lightly with his.

"Yes?"

"I think we need to establish some rules about you touching me," he rushed, concerned that Rosanna may take offence. To his surprise, she was waiting politely for him to continue.

"Such as?" asked Rosanna. Part of her had been expecting this after her repeated blunders last night and she was not overly surprised to find Willy wanted to set up some boundaries so that she kept her distance from him. She could always work on removing those boundaries later.

"Well, you seem to be a very touchy person…"

"Pardon?"

"I mean you keep touching people and things – you can't keep your hands to yourself. Even now," said Willy, gesturing to Rosanna's right hand that was still resting on his left arm. She withdrew it slowly, keeping her eyes on Willy's face. "I know that's not going to change and the Buckets are exactly the same – always hugging me or batting me on the arm or something similar," Willy finished with a whine, suppressing a shudder as he reminded himself that human contact with friends was completely normal. "But I'm used to them."

"And you're not used to me so when I touch you it feels strange," interrupted Rosanna, trying to help Willy in what was obviously a difficult situation for him.

"Exactly. So I thought if you could promise to only touch my arms and hands I could relax a bit more and wouldn't have to worry about you randomly feeding me things and…" he felt his voice fail as the sentence progressed, unable to finish with the words 'kissing me.' Rosanna seemed to understand, however, as she nodded and tapped him lightly on the hand.

"Only hands and arms – got it," she said with a smile. "No hugs?" she asked, reminding him of the night in her caravan. Willy looked as though he was about to agree that hugs were a popular custom he wanted no part of, but hesitated.

"Not unless I'm upset and look like I need one," said Willy. "Like the other night."

"What if you hug me?" asked Rosanna. "Am I permitted to respond?"

"Not going to happen."

"Suppose it did."

"Then, I guess in the highly unlikely situation I broke the habit of a lifetime and hugged a girl, you would be allowed to hug me back. But not for long."

"Got it. And no friendly kisses on the cheek?" she asked, knowing the answer.

"Absolutely not."

"Fine," said Rosanna. She could at least work with being allowed to hug him. She saw Willy sigh and relax a little. Rosanna noticed the way she could read every emotion in Willy's face as he passed from tense through confused and down to relaxed as easily as if he was holding up cue cards from his tour. He suddenly sniffed the air and turned to her, continuing to sniff as he leaned closer.

"Have you bathed this morning?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Of course! Of all the – are you saying I smell?"

"Something does…" said Willy, rising from the bench and working his way around Rosanna. "It's that!" he exclaimed, pointing at her rucksack.

"Ah yes."

"What's in there?" asked Willy, poking at the bag with his cane as if expecting something live to attack.

"About a week's worth of laundry. I was heading down the laundrette when you arrived."

"You weren't going to wait?"

"I'd waited nearly an hour, Willy. I didn't know you were having a mentor moment." Willy eyed the rucksack suspiciously.

"Ew."

"Thanks – I suppose you don't do your own laundry?"

"No. The Oompa-Loompas do it for me every few days. I don't collect it and let it fester like you seem to."

"You know how you let your mouth wander off and offend me last night?"

"Yes?"

"You're doing it again," said Rosanna, glaring slightly. She would have been more offended if she hadn't privately agreed with what Willy had said, though felt his comments lacked a certain amount of tact.

"Sorry." Willy was excused from any further embarrassment by the arrival of two of his trademarked chocolate trucks around the corner, one of them leaning drunkenly as it struggled to straighten up and head towards the stricken elevator. Both trucks parked with their tailgates to the elevator, Mr Bucket leaping out of the previously lurching truck and rushing over to Willy.

"What happened?"

"I lost concentration and landed too fast," said Willy. "I think the glass needs replacing. If you just wait here a moment…" Willy darted off to the nearest truck and leaned into the cab, conversing furiously with someone inside. The truck's tailgate lowered, and a large claw extended out of the back, reaching over to the elevator and hooking the top of it neatly, lifting the entire object carefully and suspending it five foot from the ground. The second truck lowered its tailgate and reversed carefully, the elevator just fitting inside the hold. Rosanna fought the sneaking suspension the elevator had been designed to fit inside just in case of this eventuality. Then her mind twisted and she thought about it in a more Wonka-ish way – it was far more likely that the _trucks_ had been designed to fit the elevator. She watched as the first truck disengaged the claw and retracted the arm back out of sight. Both trucks closed their tailgates and Rosanna checked her watch briefly. Ten past ten – from crash to clear-up in less than half an hour. Impressive.

Willy lowered himself from the cab of the truck and walked back over to Mr Bucket and Rosanna.

"Thanks for coming," he said, looking at Mr Bucket as he spoke and shaking his hand.

"Just be more careful from now on – Molly and Grandpa Joe are ever so worried."

"That's sweet of them," said Willy, looking a little wistful. The look faded and he threw a dazzling smile at Rosanna. "Hey, you ready to come back to the factory?" Rosanna nodded and followed Willy as he headed for the cab of the truck containing the elevator, Mr Bucket heading for the other truck. As she settled into the cab, Rosanna looked out of the window and waved a lazy hand at the inevitable nosy crowd that was gathering outside. She ignored them after this, turning her attention to the four Oompa-Loompas who between them were starting up the truck.

"Thanks for coming to pick me up today."

"It didn't quite work out the way I wanted it to," said Willy, fiddling with his cane. As the truck moved off Willy wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Rosanna?"

"Yes?"

"Throw that rucksack into the back would you?" Rosanna swatted at Willy's hand as he pinched his nose and they shared a moment's glare before she picked up the rucksack and threw it through the access hatch into the back of the truck. Slamming the hatch closed, she stuck her tongue out at Willy, a gesture he returned. They grinned at each other as the truck gathered speed, carrying them both back to factory for the second half of Rosanna's tour.


	14. Rock Candy

**Friendly warning to those people allergic to fluff: This is, amongst other things, a Wonka / other character fiction and fluff is a possibility from this point on. As is clotted cream and a lemon called Bob…**

* * *

Rosanna could not help but be fascinated by the way the Oompa-Loompas drove the delivery truck. Working in a team of four – one to steer, one for the pedals, one for the gears and one to relay messages – they had managed to guide the truck across town without any of the mishaps she might have expected at, for example, traffic lights. The front seat was a large, purple bench and she was sitting between the drivers and Willy Wonka. This arrangement suited her perfectly, as it meant she had his undivided attention for most of the journey.

"What did they ask you?"

"Oh, all sorts. Some kid had the idea that the Oompa-Loompas were a slave race and tried to quote his history lesson on the abolition of slavery," said Willy with a grimace.

"That must have been – awkward – for you," sympathised Rosanna.

"Not really. After all, they are free to leave any time they like. Some still have family back in Loompaland and send part of their pay home, to much rejoicing so they tell me. Most of the Oompa-Loompas live in my factory now though – Loompaland is far too dangerous for such a gentle people," Willy smiled dreamily as he thought of his last trip out to the island many years ago, recalling vividly the ritual where he'd been accepted as part of the tribe.

"Where do they live? In the chocolate room?"

"Oh gosh no, they have their own village. If you like, I could ask their chief if we can visit them one day."

"An entire village? Inside the factory?"

"Yes. You'll love the cute little treehouses they've built."

"I'm sure I will. Did you say you had to ask the chief's permission to enter?"

"Yes."

"But, if it's your factory…"

"I respect their privacy. They respect mine. And part of that respect demands I don't go wandering through the village without asking their chief."

"I see." Rosanna looked sideways to the four Oompa-Loompas on her right. They were swaying ever so slightly in time with the faint, tinny music from the radio and she wondered what kind of culture they'd had before being brought to the factory and exposed to Willy's music collection. She supposed she could always ask the chief, assuming she was allowed to enter the village.

"What would you like to see today?"

"Why don't you choose? After all, we don't have the elevator and I bet you could pick out the highlights."

"If you insist," said Willy, looking out the window as they passed the shops on the main street opposite the factory. Rosanna saw Willy's face contort with ill-suppressed rage as the shops of Prodnose, Fickelgruber and Slugworth whipped across their vision, candies and chocolates piled high in the windows. Rosanna felt a guilty desire for some of Fickelgruber's ice cream, but suppressed it knowing that Willy would be awfully betrayed if he found out. Besides, if what she'd heard about the ice cream was true, it was Willy's recipe anyway and she'd be able to ask for a sample at the factory if the craving didn't fade.

Once inside the factory, Rosanna tilted her head to take in the look of the now familiar hall. She wondered at how lonely the factory must have been when it was first closed, picturing the eccentric Willy Wonka pacing the empty, echoing, barren hallway, mulling over the mistake of sharing his secrets with his workers. Perhaps there had been tears in his eyes as he walked through the large hallway, the huge, empty factory closing in around him. It wasn't as hard to imagine as one might think – the room was virtually soundproof and if it hadn't been for Willy and Mr Bucket then Rosanna would have been quite alone. She shuddered and turned to Willy, finding him in deep conversation with Mr Bucket.

"I hope you don't mind," said Willy, Rosanna catching what seemed to be the tail end of the conversation.

"No, not at all, thanks for watching out for him," said Mr Bucket, placing a hand on Willy's forearm and nodding appreciatively. Willy gave a serious nod and looked down, pulling back to turn and face Rosanna.

"Ready for the tour?" he buzzed, throwing a dazzling smile in her direction.

"Yes – can we go to the chocolate room again first?"

"If you like. Leave that," he pointed at the rucksack, sneering slightly, "here though," said Willy, heading off up the hall. Rosanna dropped the rucksack and trotted after him, Mr Bucket bringing up the rear. Once inside the chocolate room, Rosanna sighed happily at the fantastical sight, part of her wishing that the rest of her life could be spent in here, looking up through the skylight at the clouds above while her senses were assaulted by the sights, smells and sounds of chocolate production. Her happy reverie was rudely interrupted by the appearance of Mrs Bucket, who let out a loud shriek as she espied Willy, rushing over and dragging the chocolatier into a choking embrace.

"Are you alright?" cried Mrs Bucket. "We were so worried when you said you'd had a crash!" Willy, bent over with his head at an awkward angle and his neck crushed on Mrs Bucket's shoulder, flailed his arms desperately behind her back, unable to see the fleeting look of jealousy on Rosanna's face.

"Air!" gasped Willy, breaking free. He straightened his coat and looked at Mrs Bucket. "Thanks for your concern – it's really sweet of you but I'm fine. See?" finished Willy, holding his arms out at shoulder level and turning around slowly, modelling the fact he was perfectly unharmed.

"What happened?" asked Mrs Bucket. As Willy recounted the story again, Rosanna settled down on the grass and watched while he waved his arms around excitedly as he described his brush with death with the usual showmanship. She couldn't quite put her finger on why she was so drawn to this man. Could it be the slight whiff of chocolate every time he walked near her? She didn't want to believe she was rapidly falling for someone based on the way they smelled after a day's work – there was something far too, animalistic, about that kind of attraction to associate with Willy Wonka. She marvelled at the way he bobbed around whilst talking – she'd rarely seen anyone as mobile as Willy when describing one of his great adventures. He paced, waved his hands, smiled, grimaced, demonstrated events and occasionally jumped while talking to Mrs Bucket, and Rosanna smiled as she watched, glad to see him relaxed after the chaos of the morning. She felt honoured to have seen him during what must have been a rare fragile moment on the evening of the circus, hoping that the experience would show Willy it was alright to open up and share his feelings with her, whatever they may be.

Willy turned to Rosanna and raised his eyebrows.

"Ready for the tour now?"

"Yep," she answered, standing reluctantly and giving one last look at the chocolate room as they headed out and into the hallway. Willy steered her to her right and they slowly climbed a long, sloped corridor through one of the several identical steel doors.

"Rosanna?"

"Yes?"

"How long are you in town for?" asked Willy, the question seeming to have been playing on his mind.

"I hadn't really thought about it. I was going to stay in the hotel until after I'd been to your factory, but then I asked you to dinner and needed to stay an extra few nights as a result. I haven't really thought about what happens next."

"I guess you need to, as we'll see most of the interesting rooms today and I don't know that you'd want to come back again."

"Yes, I would! Of course I would! I want to see everything! Every room!" said Rosanna, more enthusiastically than she'd meant to. She was starting to worry that her dwindling supply of cash was going to run out before she had a chance to establish even a friendship with Willy and the easiest solution seemed to be to pretend her only concern was visiting the factory.

"It might take some time to do that," said Willy. "There are hundreds of rooms here."

"Hundreds?"

"Even I don't know how many," he whispered, stopping walking and staring at the floor. He had been thinking about whether Rosanna would be staying in town or not since he'd found out she was staying in a hotel, vaguely aware that to do so cost money, but the realisation she might leave some day soon hadn't really dawned on him until the last few minutes.

"Are you okay?" asked Rosanna, touching a light hand to Willy's arm. Willy closed his eyes and bowed his head a little, withdrawing into the panic he felt at the thought of losing a – friend – so quickly, then sprang forwards and twirled to present a nearby door to Rosanna for inspection.

"Lemon Sherbet Travel Sweets!" he grinned, revealing slightly too many teeth. Rosanna followed him into the room, interested to see how the little chalky sweets that had saved her pride on the previous tour were made. She was almost disappointed to see large vats of lemons and white powder, emptying into a large, circular tub stirred by a mechanical arm. The chalky circles were formed in moulds inside a large, square machine that looked far too normal to belong in Willy's factory. She circled the room and looked up – ah, there it was. A spiral staircase led above the machines and to a room above, a circular window in the centre of the room revealing what looked to be a lemon grove in the balcony area. She raced up the stairs and through two doors, the second covered by a fine net. She looked around her, the lemons on the trees impossibly large and ripe for this time of year. Then again, the entire factory was more or less climate-controlled – who's to say Willy couldn't keep the lemon room at the optimum temperature for the lemon trees? She watched a group of Oompa-Loompas pick the lemons from a tree and dump them into a large hopper for washing.

"Do you grow all your own fruit?" she asked as a large, multi-coloured butterfly flapped lazily passed her face.

"No, just lemons, oranges, snozzberries, strawberries and apples. The rest is imported."

"From where?"

"I have my sources…" said Willy, a little mysteriously.

"Why the insects?" asked Rosanna, swatting at a bee.

"To pollinate the flowers on the trees. Didn't they teach you anything at school?" he grinned cheekily and picked a lemon from the nearest tree. "Catch," he called, tossing the lemon to her. Rosanna caught it automatically and sniffed the fruit, the lemon tang of the skin pleasantly contrasting with the smell of chocolate permeating through most of the factory. "Shall we move on?" said Willy, leading her across the room and through another airlock into another sloping corridor. Rosanna looked down at the lemon in her hand. It was strange to think of fruit existing in this world of candy and make-believe and the innocent little lemon seemed oddly out of place. She thought about what Willy had asked earlier and realised that her real world worries of finding somewhere to live had no place in here either. She suddenly understood that it must have come as quite a shock to Willy when something as real as the nasty world of industrial espionage had found its way into Wonderland.

A few hours later and Rosanna and Willy were sitting at a table in the clotted cream room, eating a typically English snack of a cream tea. The lemon had been seated with some ceremony next to the sugar bowl, having been christened Bob by Willy who had read psychology texts in his spare time and who had also managed to convince Rosanna that it was fun to pretend Bob was a real person. Rosanna helped herself to the cream and jam on the table and reached for a scone. Trying to be a lady, she fought the urge to pile her scone as high as possible with the excellent cream. She put down her knife daintily and looked over to Willy, who was now fastidiously tidying the edges of the neatly applied cream with a knife such that it did not stick out over the end of the scone. Rosanna watched as Willy carefully bit into the end of the scone, nibbling a tiny amount and completing the manoeuvre without any crumbs or cream dropping onto his plate. Rosanna looked down at her rather untidy scone and knew that the moment she lifted it to her lips, a blob of cream would fall and land on her blouse, probably marking it for the rest of the day.

"So, what do you like best about what you've seen?" asked Willy. Rosanna fought the urge to answer with the word 'you' (which she thought would sound decidedly too girly for her) and thought instead about the rooms she'd visited that morning. The lollipop room had been fun, as had the large chocolate bar moulding room, despite the fact she'd seen only boring old machines in that one.

"I like the gumball room – I had no idea that you tested them for bounciness before releasing them for sale," she giggled, remembering the sterile 'testing area' where gumballs were fired into an enclosed room, only the bounciest reaching the required height on the rebound to be selected for sale. "There's so much – I don't think I could pick a favourite."

"Neither can I."

"If forced, I might say…"

"The chocolate room?" finished Willy, grinning as Rosanna nodded.

"How did you know?"

"I saw your face again today – you love the place don't you?"

"I think I might." Rosanna softened her smile as she looked into Willy's face. Please, oh please, she thought, let me come back and get to know you and your perfect world a little better, you crazy candyman. She bit into her scone without looking and, as predicted, felt the slight weight of a blob of cream on one of the accursed ruffles on her blouse. She swore and dabbed frantically at the mark with a tissue. Willy watched with a mixture of disgust and amusement. He didn't generally like messy eaters, but there was something endearing about the way Rosanna was so desperate to clean herself up after the accident. He felt another pang as he remembered she might not be around for much longer and cleared his throat nervously.

"Have you thought any more about what you might do after the tour?" asked Willy.

"No, not really," said Rosanna, her annoyance changing to a sadder look as she contemplated her limited options.

"Any chance you could still work with horses?"

"None really. I'm too proud to be a stable hand and I suppose I might get a job somewhere as a riding instructor, but I don't really like being around children."

"Why not?"

"They remind me too much of He…" she stopped.

"What?" asked Willy.

"It doesn't matter."

"Please? I thought we were friends, and friends shouldn't keep secrets from each other," said Willy, sensing that this was dangerous territory and noticing the pained look now crossing Rosanna's face. He cautiously reached out and touched her hand, giving an encouraging nod as she looked up at him. "Go on," he urged.

"I don't think you'd really be interested."

"Why don't you tell Bob?" asked Willy, picking up the lemon and pretending to whisper into its 'ear' and listen to the reply. "Bob's very interested." Willy replaced the lemon on the table, this time in the centre, and folded his hands on his lap to listen to Rosanna.

"I'm not sure Bob would understand, it's not like he has any experience with these matters."

"How is Bob to learn if you don't teach him how to understand?"

"Willy, why are you trying to use logic to justify my talking to a lemon? It's not like he's a real person." Willy reached over and covered Bob's ears with his hands, a fake shocked expression on his face.

"Don't say that! You'll hurt his feelings!"

"Sorry Bob," said Rosanna sarcastically, slightly annoyed with Willy. She snatched at the lemon and looked at it with forced regard.

"Well, Bob, since you want to know, I don't like children because they remind me of a man called Heath."

"Who's Heath?" asked Willy. "Sorry to interrupt," he added, nodding to 'Bob.'

"He was my fiancé."

"Fiancé? So you did have a boyfriend?"

"Yes. We met at the riding school I trained at and we went out for some time before getting engaged. He was funny and proud and handsome."

"Oh," said Willy, feeling suddenly inadequate for some unexplainable reason. He wasn't sure he was funny, knew he was too proud and was probably not handsome as he was now within eleven months of his fortieth birthday and far too old to be such a thing. "What happened?"

"When I had the accident, Heath was wonderful. He stayed at the hospital, brought me flowers every day, sat by my bedside and promised that he'd stay with me no matter what." Rosanna's face had grown cold and there was a bitter tone in her voice as she continued, all pretence of a light conversation now gone as she placed 'Bob' down on the table. "He promised he'd never leave."

"And then?"

"And then he found out that the accident had left me unable to have children and he changed somehow. Not right away, but the flowers didn't come every day and there was something missing when he kissed me." Rosanna blinked to stop the pain coming back to haunt her. Willy felt his heart ache as he imagined how much Heath's betrayal would have hurt Rosanna when she'd already been through so much. He knew from experience how it felt to have promises broken and hated seeing anyone disappointed – the hollow feeling inside damaging his mood in a way he couldn't begin to describe. He didn't want to see her like this – he preferred the strong, independent Rosanna who threw reeking laundry at him and could force him to apologise in public.

"Did he stop coming to visit?" asked Willy.

"No. I told him to. I knew he wanted children and after a few months it became obvious that that was more important to him than me. He stayed with the riding group for a while and I joined the circus. The last I heard of him, he was happily married with children." Rosanna looked across the table at Willy, who was lacing his tea with enough sugar to rot the teeth of ten Oompa-Loompas while lost in thought. He can't cope with the idea, thought Rosanna, I shouldn't have told him. He's probably scared half to death by this. She ate the rest of her scone in silence, watching for any reaction from Willy.

Willy, quite from being unable to cope with the situation, was already thinking of ways to help Rosanna feel better. It was true that a girl had never hurt him – he'd been far too busy for them – and so he had no idea how it felt to know that someone you loved had betrayed you. However, he could certainly sympathise with being abandoned and left defenceless, and knew how hard betrayal was in general, even though he'd never loved. He stopped spooning sugar into his cup and looked across the table at Rosanna.

"I'm so sorry," said Willy, reaching over and touching Rosanna's hand.

"Thanks." Rosanna looked down and a tear rolled down her cheek. Concerned, Willy froze and watched the tear fall and felt another pang of pain. He couldn't let her carry on feeling like this – there had to be something he could do to make her feel better. "Sorry," Rosanna gulped, "just being silly." She wasn't sure why talking about Heath with Willy had made her feel so awful – perhaps it was because he hadn't judged her and was simply being honest when he said he was sorry for her. Her parents had blamed her for the break-up, which seemed grossly unfair given the circumstances. She knew that they'd told her to give up riding repeatedly throughout her brief career in case she got hurt, and she had tried hard to convince herself that her mother hadn't been slightly satisfied to be proved right. Her father had been no better – it was he who had kept her informed of Heath's new family, and reminded her that she could have been the happy, devoted wife. Unbidden, angry tears flowed and there was nothing she could do to stop them.

"Hush," said Willy, unsure of what to do next. He covered his mouth with one hand and frowned, sorry he'd ever brought up the subject of what Rosanna would do next. The shadow of a memory clicked into place as Rosanna gulped for air and tried to steady herself. He wasn't supposed to be stopping her – he was supposed to be comforting her while she cried. "It's okay – you cry. I'll be right here," he said, drinking a quick draught of tea and trying to figure out what to do next.

A minute later and Rosanna still hadn't recovered – if anything she had withdrawn into her own misery. As Rosanna shook a little more, Willy put down the cup and walked silently around the small circular table, steeling himself for what part of him demanded he do next. He rubbed his hands nervously together, glad for the comforting protection of the gloves, and crouched next to Rosanna's chair. Tentatively, unwilling to touch her in case he made matters worse, Willy extended a hand and gently stroked Rosanna's left arm. She shuddered a little, letting out a pained groan and sobbing into her hands, covering her face.

"I'm so sorry Willy." Her sobs redoubled and Rosanna started to hate herself for doing this – Heath had been a distant memory until the other night at the restaurant and now, instead of focusing her attention on Willy, she was wasting time crying about how Heath had hurt her. "I'm sorry – I shouldn't be crying!"

"Why not? He obviously hurt you," said Willy, tapping his hand vaguely on her shoulder. He reached up to her face with his left hand and slowly prised her hands from her face, helping her to lower them to her lap before hesitantly wiping a tear from her cheek. "That's better, you don't need to hide from me Rosanna."

"Not hiding," she sniffled.

"Here," said Willy, pulling out a handkerchief from a pocket and handing it to her. She took it gratefully and dabbed at her eyes, calming herself and accepting the small comfort Willy could be given his aversion to touching. "Feel better?"

"No. But I'm sure I will at some point. Sorry for being silly by crying."

"Crying's not silly. Talking to lemons, now that's silly," he told her gravely, shaking his head. "We may need to get you some help, dearest," he added, sighing and looking down with a sad look on his face. It took Rosanna a few seconds to realise he was joking and she laughed as his expression changed from depressed to grotesque as he pulled a face at her.

"You wally," she muttered, cracking a smile.

"I'm pleased I cheered you up. I like you better this way."

"Why?" asked Rosanna, drying the last of her tears and tucking the handkerchief into her jeans pocket, knowing Willy wouldn't want it back in its current state.

"You look more like yourself," said Willy, wondering if now would be a good time to break the habit of a lifetime and give her a quick hug to make sure she felt better. She'd done the same for him, after all. "You're much prettier without tears running down your cheeks and red eyes," he said, starting to lean forwards and fighting his nerves to allow him to give her a friendly hug.

"You don't say," said Rosanna flirtatiously, batting her eyelids. Willy suddenly froze, all thoughts of hugging Rosanna forgotten as he scooted backwards and stood with his back against one of the vats of clotted cream, his right index finger pointing accusingly at Rosanna, eyes bulging and lip sneering in fright.

"Don't ever do that again!" he shrieked.

"Do what?"

"That voice – the words – eyeballs – don't do it! EVER AGAIN! Please…"

"Why not?" Rosanna stood and walked slowly over to where Willy was now shaking. He took a few breaths to calm himself before answering, meeting her questioning stare with what he hoped was a sensible, reasonable expression. He actually looked quite sick.

"You reminded me of a person I don't like very much – that's all." He gave a silly grin as he dismissed the idea of Rosanna being anything like Mrs Beauregarde and shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, thanks," she whispered, drawing a bit closer to Willy as she wondered why he'd taken fright.

"Oh marvellous!" said Willy, internally turning cartwheels about making her happy. "I'm so pleased we can continue the tour! Would you like to see the rock candy mine?" he walked forward and took one of her hands in his, dragging her to the door to make up some time.

"Yeah. Sounds wonderful," she muttered, following Willy out of the door and down the corridor. It was only a few minutes later, as they turned a corner and took another corridor sloping steeply downwards that Rosanna realised Willy still hadn't released her hand, dragging her along the hallways faster than she was comfortable with in eager readiness to show her the rock candy mine. Rosanna smiled at the realisation and hoped that it indicated he was starting to lose his aversion to her.

Willy finally stopped outside a pair of large iron doors, next to which were hanging a number of miniature red hard hats. Next to these were four normal-sized hard hats, one of which Willy unhooked and handed to Rosanna, selecting another for himself and removing his top hat to put it on. Rosanna felt a little silly as the plastic hat crushed her hair around her ears and looked up to see Willy wearing his hat with little concern for his appearance. He knows he looks good, thought Rosanna. Willy reached over and straightened Rosanna's hat for her, smirking as he rapped the top of the hat twice with his knuckles.

"Ready for an adventure?" asked Willy. Rosanna nodded and Willy placed his cane and hat next to the doorway before putting a hand to the centre of the left-hand door and pushing it open. A blast of sweet air rushed out and hit Rosanna in the face. Willy stepped through the door and held a hand back beckoning her in. A little scared, but more than a little excited, Rosanna stepped through the giant iron doors and they slammed shut behind her, plunging them both into total darkness.

Instinctively, Rosanna gave a shocked cry and reached out her hands to grab at anything around her. The 'anything' that came to hand was Willy's coat sleeve and she clung to it desperately, feeling foolish for having cried out. There was a click and the lights in the room came on, revealing a short walkway in front of them to an industrial lift shaft heading down through the floor into a deep, dark pit.

"Sure you want to go down there?" asked Willy, looking down at her hands and wondering if this had been a good idea after all. Her hands were tightly clenched, creasing the red velvet mercilessly in her double grip on his coat.

"Of course," said Rosanna. "Will we be going down to 10,000 feet?" Willy led Rosanna to the edge of the pit and they looked down through the lift shaft before he answered. There was an odd breeze lifting up from the depths.

"No – we'd need breathing equipment. There are ventilation shafts, but they don't reach that far down."

"Do the Oompa-Loompas work down at those depths?"

"Yes. But rarely. Coming?" asked Willy, stepping into the steel cage of the lift and pulling his left arm after him, Rosanna still intimately attached to the fabric of the sleeve.

"It is safe?"

"Would I send the Oompa-Loompas down there if it wasn't?" asked Willy, looking mildly offended when she didn't answer straight away. Rosanna shuffled into the lift and Willy pulled the guard across behind her, hitting the 'down' button as soon as the cage was secure. As the lift descended into darkness, Rosanna felt dreadfully insecure. She hadn't realised how unnerving it was to travel down into the earth and was suddenly worried about being stuck down here forever, the prospect of being buried alive stirring memories of old horror films. To her relief, after plunging downwards for only ten seconds, the darkness was broken by lights fitted into the lift shaft walls. The shaft opened up into a cavern and as they travelled down she saw side shafts and cross seams being worked by skilled teams of Oompa-Loompas, the black, sticky rock candy looking remarkably like coal.

"How deep are we going?" asked Rosanna, looking around at the mining lights twinkling like diamonds around them.

"To 900 feet. There's a cavern down there we use to sort the candy before it is sent to the surface," said Willy, looking down through the iron grill grating of the floor. A faint light was growing steadily brighter as the lift descended and Rosanna could have sworn that the intensity of the sweet taste in the air was also increasing. She shivered – it was getting colder the further down the mine they travelled. Willy noticed and smirked. "Guess you should have worn a thicker shirt," he scolded her in a light tone.

"I didn't know that I'd be doing this – be fair!" She removed her hands from Willy's coat, rubbing her arms in an effort to keep warm. The lift plunged into the circle of light below them and Rosanna blinked to accustom her eyes to the brighter surroundings. They were in another, larger cavern, brightly lit by electrical lights that had been fitted to the black rock surfaces around them. The lift came to a rest at the bottom of the cavern, the tall walls towering over fifty feet above them. Rosanna shivered a bit more as she took in her surroundings – the sheer enormity of the room dwarfing them both. All around her, Oompa-Loompas were engaged in the task of sorting the mined rock candy, loading it onto a conveyer belt that led away into a tunnel in the wall.

"I call this the Cathedral Cave – because of its size," said Willy.

"It is impressive," said Rosanna. "Where does the conveyer go?"

"To a series of lifts and then to the surface."

"Why is it so cold?"

"To stop the candy from melting. The vents," Willy pointed at the ceiling where four large enclosed fans would be seen spinning in their cages, "provide cold air to supply oxygen and keep the temperature down. Needless to say, I had to invest in thermal underwear for the miners." Willy laughed and Rosanna tried to join in, her teeth chattering too much to laugh properly.

"But the air at the top is so hot?"

"That's not from the mine – it's from the cooling system. It works on a similar principle to a refrigerator – that's why the back of your fridge at home is warm but the contents are cold. Simple heat transfer."

"Willy?"

"Yes?"

"Fascinating as this is, I'm freezing!" Rosanna's hands had gone white and she was sure her face had turned a similar hue. She was convinced her nose had turned to an ice block and hoped it wouldn't start running. Willy sighed, irritated at being interrupted and turned to regard Rosanna. He took in the white face, flushed cheeks and blue lips and decided she was probably justified in her interruption. He shrugged out of his coat and handed it to her.

"Here." Rosanna looked up in surprise and took the coat gratefully, pulling the coat around her and feeling the warmth still lingering in the cloth starting to thaw her frozen body.

"Thanks. How do I look?" she held her arms out and gave a silly smile. The sleeves were far too long for her and the coat was too big around the waist to flatter her in the slightest. Willy gave a short chuckle and turned away, not trusting himself to avoid insulting her with the truth. She looked short and weird and it was strange to see his coat on a woman, let alone one with blue lips and red cheeks.

"Gee, thanks for the compliment Mr Wonka," huffed Rosanna, not really offended. Willy turned back, ready to apologise for laughing until he saw the mischievous glint in her eye.

"Don't mention it," he drawled dryly. "Come here, I want to show you something." He trotted over to a sorting table, red hat bobbing up and down as he jumped over stray pieces of rock candy. Rosanna followed at a more cautious speed, not daring to jump in case she missed her footing. She was starting to think that beige mules were a poor choice for touring a mine. Willy picked up a small piece of rock candy and held it out to her, turning the nugget over and over to allow it to catch the light. "Isn't it pretty?"

"It looks like coal, but shinier," answered Rosanna. "What will happen to it next?"

"First of all it goes up top, then it's refined and mixed with sugar before being turned into the end product." He sniffed at the nugget and pulled a small knife out of a trouser pocket, cutting off the tiniest flake and letting it dissolve on his tongue slowly before swallowing. "Want to try some?"

"Okay…" said Rosanna. She liked rock candy, but was a little apprehensive about trying to eat something that for all intents and purposes was identical to a lump of coal. Willy cut another tiny flake and gave it to Rosanna. She put the flake into her mouth and nearly vomited in disgust – the rock candy tasted of burnt sugar mixed with something else that seemed to dry out her mouth completely. She gagged and swallowed, only then looking up at Willy who was watching her with polite interest, only a hint of amusement playing in his eyes.

"I did say the rock candy needed refining and sweetening before sale," he said.

"But you ate some! Why didn't you react like that?"

"It would have rather spoiled the surprise, would it not?" Willy grinned at Rosanna and reached over to her, unbuttoning his coat from around her chest. Rosanna felt her pulse race as she wondered what he was doing and was a little disappointed when he reached into the inside pocket and pulled out the travelling sweets, popping one into his mouth with haste to rid himself of the taste of raw, unrefined rock candy. Willy misinterpreted the look of disappointment for sickness, quickly taking a second sweet and holding it in front of Rosanna's mouth. "Open," he instructed. Rosanna opened her mouth just enough for the sweet to enter and Willy touched it to her lips, allowing her to take the sweet in her teeth without his actually having to touch her face.

"'nks," said Rosanna through the chalky lemon tablet in her mouth.

"Want to go back up?" asked Willy. Rosanna nodded and Willy led the way back to the lift as she cuddled further into the coat around her, glad that Willy went in for thick velvet. The silk lining was pleasantly soft and she shuffled inside the overlarge coat comfortably, snuggling into the material. Willy noticed her squirming and stopped walking to watch for a moment. "Nice isn't it?" he asked her. "The silk is from China – it's the softest I could find." There was something very, warm, about watching her enjoying wearing his coat, even if it meant that he was now physically a little colder than was comfortable inside his waistcoat, shirt and vest (Willy had followed few of his father's instructions as regards clothing, but for some reason the 'never go out without a vest on' advice had stuck). He'd also have to get the coat cleaned before wearing it again, but perhaps that was a minor inconvenience in the circumstances.

"Um, yes," said Rosanna, not wanting to admit that the most inviting thing about snuggling into the coat was the heavy scent of Willy's cologne clinging to the fabric. She hadn't noticed it before, always assuming that he was content to smell of chocolate or whatever else he was working with. The cologne was nice, a fresh scent that reminded her of walking in a forest in springtime. Willy held the gate of the lift open for Rosanna and she hopped in next to him, shaking her head as Willy turned to secure the guard rail in order to clear it. The journey back out of the mine took little time and Rosanna felt the warm air from the surface ruffle her hair as they broke through to the mine entrance.

"Anything else you'd like to see?" asked Willy, leading the way back into the corridor. He pulled out his pocket watch and checked it. "Great grizzly geckos, it's six o' clock! I'm going to be late for dinner." He snatched the red hat off Rosanna's head, hanging it with his own outside the door of the rock candy room. He picked up his top hat and cane, pulling the hat over his ears as quickly as possible.

"Oh, I suppose I'd better be going then," said Rosanna, folding her arms in front of her.

"Why don't you stay? Mrs Bucket wouldn't mind."

"I couldn't spring that on her, it wouldn't be polite."

"Tomorrow then?" asked Willy, desperate to see her again but a little unsure as to why.

"If you like," said Rosanna, pleased that he had asked so she didn't need to make another excuse to come back. Willy smiled and looked down at Rosanna.

"I would. I will have fixed the elevator by tomorrow – I'll pick you up at five-thirty."

"Okay." Rosanna followed Willy as he led the way up the steep slope of the corridor and up to the main hallway. Rosanna could feel that she was dreadfully tired after the day's events and was content simply to be in Willy's presence, not bothering to make idle chit-chat.

Willy, also tired, occasionally stole a glance over his shoulder at the shorter figure now trotting along behind him. The thought occurred to him that despite the fact he'd seen Rosanna in a pink fairy costume in extreme close-up, a cocktail dress and her normal clothes, she'd never looked better than she did now, hurrying along dressed in his coat and with her hair messed up from the hard hat. The dreaded butterflies returned and he looked away, realisation suddenly dawning and stopping his breath. Forcing himself to keep walking and sending conscious instructions to his diaphragm and ribs to keep moving, he allowed the unbidden thought into the front of his mind. _He liked her_. He had suspected that Rosanna wanted more from him than just friendship, never entertaining the concept that he might return that desire. Perhaps she had never wanted to be more than friends and the signs he thought he'd picked up were all just in his own head because he wanted to…? What exactly? What did one do in this situation? What did he want?

The factory doors stood solid and unforgiving in front of them as they arrived at the entrance. Willy swallowed down the butterflies and turned to Rosanna with a brittle smile.

"Here we are, heh," he announced, the nervous laugh returning with ingratiating speed as he looked at her face. _How could he have not realised sooner?_ An Oompa-Loompa arrived with Rosanna's tatty rucksack, which looked as though it had been mended and cleaned since that morning. The Oompa-Loompa bowed and handed her the rucksack, Rosanna immediately rummaging through the freshly laundered clothes for her mobile.

"This was very kind of you – thanks," she said quietly to the Oompa-Loompa who nodded and crossed his arms before bowing in response. Rosanna wasn't sure what to do next, but Willy motioned for her to return the bow and she did so awkwardly, the rucksack still clutched in one hand and the mobile in the other. The Oompa-Loompa grinned pleasantly at her and walked away.

"I gave instructions to have your clothes cleaned for you as I realised you wouldn't have time to do it yourself," said Willy.

"Thanks. I'm just going to call a taxi." Rosanna dialled the number and paced around the hallway as she instructed the taxi where to pick her up, Willy watching her all the while and trying to fight the urge to cry. If he did like her like _that_ there was a real risk he was going to mess up their friendship and scare her away – like the other day at the mountain. Suppose she wanted nothing like that to do with him and decided to stay away from him so she didn't give him false hope? And then there was that business with Heath. Stupid name anyway. After the way she had cried today, she clearly still had feelings for him. Willy felt crushed at that and turned to look at the factory door, staring at it with enough intensity to bore a hole through the cold metal. He heard Rosanna finish the call and turned to face her as she walked to meet him.

"Are they coming for you?"

"Yes, the depot's only ten minutes away and they're not busy so someone's coming right over."

"That's nice of them." Willy slipped a hand into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out his chequebook, a surprisingly bland HSBC grey cover seeming out of place. "Could I have my pen please?" asked Willy, pointing to his coat. "Inside pocket." Rosanna produced the pen and handed it to Willy.

"What are you doing?"

"As a friend, I am providing you with a loan of one thousand pounds. Use it as you wish – my advice would be to extend your stay at the hotel before making up your mind what to do next. You don't want to rush into, for example, buying a flat in London several miles from the nearest riding school without thinking it through first," he finished, scrawling his signature across the bottom and ripping off the cheque, holding it out to her. "I won't insult you by simply giving you the money – you can pay me back when you have the means to do so." Rosanna's first instinct to refuse the money was crushed by Willy's closing remark and she took the cheque soundlessly. Of course, the money was nothing to Willy and it would help her to stay around for a bit longer, which could only be a good thing.

"With interest?" asked Rosanna.

"No. Definitely not."

"If you insist. Thanks, by the way."

"No problem," said Willy, gripping his cane nervously. Rosanna noticed the gesture and guessed (correctly) that this was the first time he'd helped someone out financially. She decided to break Willy's rules about touching and walked up to hug him, slipping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest. She felt Willy shake a little but ignored this and closed her eyes, listening to the rapid pulse beating in Willy's chest, trying to ignore the fact his arms were stuck out by his sides like a limp scarecrow. Drifting for a second in a warm, scented, soft world, Rosanna knew her decision to pursue the chocolatier was the correct one. She opened her eyes and looked up at Willy's face.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You're welcome," he whined back. He wasn't sure that his rules had included her hugging him when _she_ needed a hug and he felt naked and vulnerable without his coat and the pretence that he didn't care for her as more than a friend.

"I'll wait at the gates," said Rosanna, backing off.

"I'll walk you," replied Willy, opening the factory door and leading the way, offering his arm to Rosanna to escort her to the gates. She took his arm and they walked silently to the gates, Willy trying to reconcile his childish instinct to run with the other instinct that was telling him to never let Rosanna out of his sight again. They reached the gates and Willy pulled one open, heading out onto the pavement with Rosanna following him closely.

"I had a wonderful time today, Willy," said Rosanna.

"So did I. It will be nice to have a dinner together again."

"It will."

"Rosanna?"

"Yes?"

"Coat please," said Willy, holding out his hand out to receive it as a taxi swung around the corner and pulled to a halt. Rosanna smiled and removed the coat, passing it to him and stepping towards the taxi.

"I'll see you tomorrow," called Rosanna, getting into the back of the taxi and leaning forward to tell the driver where to head to before winding the window down and waving to Willy.

"Goodbye," called Willy, waving his right hand vaguely and watching the taxi until it had disappeared from sight. His hand slowly curled up finger at a time and he lowered his arm to his side, a little sad to have made so little of their goodbye. He walked back through the gates and locked them behind him, pleased for once that there was such a long walk back to the factory. There was a certain amount of privacy permitted by the factory courtyard and Willy used this to his advantage, pressing his face into the lining of his coat and inhaling deeply. The silk tickled his face as he caught the hint of roses and vanilla from a cheap French perfume that had lingered on his coat. He stood there for some time, face pressed into the coat, eyes closed, oblivious to the world around him as he considered the strange yet pleasant new emotions he was experiencing for the first time. When it started to rain, Willy lowered the coat and headed back into the factory.

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**Please review, it lets me know how to improve. Many thanks in advance.**


	15. The gratuitous shower scene

**For those who love Bob, he now has his own shrine at my homepage. On with the show!**

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Willy was grateful that the Buckets were in the middle of a family argument when he entered the house for dinner as it meant he was not forced to immediately describe how his day had passed. From the snatches he'd caught from outside the door, it seemed that Mrs Bucket was still concerned about Charlie staying out on a school night, whereas Mr Bucket thought it was healthy for Charlie to be actively socialising with his friends. The grandparents were split between their offspring, however Grandpa George occasionally swapped sides in order to perpetuate the argument further. When Willy opened the door of the house, a stony silence fell on the family and the evening meal was conducted with nothing more than strained and polite conversation. Eventually, the inevitable question was asked by Mrs Bucket. 

""How was your day, Willy?"

"Oh, fine. It was fun."

"Where did you take her today?"

"Lots of places. We just came from the mine."

"Did she like it?"

"I think so," said Willy, looking over to his coat that he'd left in an unceremonious heap by the door with his cane and top hat. "I took the liberty of inviting her to dinner tomorrow night – is that alright?" Willy looked imploringly at Mrs Bucket, willing her to agree.

"That would be lovely Willy! She can finally meet the rest of the family," she finished, meaning Grandpa George and Grandmas Josephine and Georgina.

"Thanks." Willy looked back down at his plate and smiled softly. The smile was seen by all the gathered Bucket clan and lightened the mood around the table. At the end of the meal, Mr Bucket was the one to break the tender silence.

"You seem to be spending a lot of time together."

"Yes, she's a good friend. A good friend," said Willy, reinforcing the lie to try and hide any emotion on his face.

"Is that all?" asked Mrs Bucket. Yesterday, Willy would have been able to pull a face in disgust and claim ignorance of any 'mushy stuff' that was running through Mrs Bucket's mind. Today however, with the realisation he liked Rosanna less than two hours old, the lie caught in his throat and he found himself utterly speechless. He didn't dare to look up, so missed the sweet smiles on the faces of all the family, save of course for Grandpa George who looked slightly nauseous.

"Willy?" asked Mr Bucket. "Do you like her?"

"Does she feel the same way?" asked Mrs Bucket. Willy looked up and regarded the sea of smiles around him.

"No. She's still very attached to her ex-fiancé who she told me about today." Willy watched as the smiles around him faded to sympathetic looks and disappointment. "I'm not hungry," said Willy, pushing his plate away and standing up ready to leave.

"Willy, I'm so sorry," said Mrs Bucket.

"Thanks," answered Willy, pausing only briefly to collect his effects from next to the door before walking out of the house.

Willy walked until he came to the bank of the chocolate river and sat out of sight of the house to contemplate how he felt. As he sat there, he slowly wound his arms around himself and lowered his chin into his chest, cuddling his coat to his face. Contrary to his immediate instinct in the mine, he hadn't sent the coat to be cleaned immediately and the scent of Rosanna's perfume mingled with his own cologne, making him dizzy. Sure that he couldn't be seen he ran his hands down from his shoulders to his elbows, shuddering as he imagined Rosanna's touch instead of his own. He caught himself smiling in a most un-Wonka-ish way and stopped.

"It's not fair," he gasped. Releasing himself, he stood shakily and gasped for breath. He supposed that it would have been easier if Rosanna wasn't a friend. True, he'd still be worrying about how to talk to her and how to face her after realising how he felt about her, but at least he'd have nothing to _lose_ through feeling this way. There was a real risk that Rosanna would want nothing to do with him if she were to find out how he felt and Willy wasn't sure he could handle the idea of never seeing her again. If he lost her friendship – now that would be too hard to bear. He debated how to tell her his feelings had changed towards her without scaring her away from the factory forever, wondering all the while how it would feel the next time she hugged him and whether he'd ever be able to return her embrace. As Willy headed for the door to the corridor, he fought painful tears and actually made it as far as the hallway before wailing.

He ran blindly through the corridors of the factory, arriving at the "Repairs" room tear-stained and out of breath. He slipped through the door and sank to the floor, sitting awkwardly as he sobbed bitter tears into his gloved hands. The Oompa-Loompas that had already started work on repairing the elevator walked over to their employer and surrounded him in a close-knit circle, the foreman putting a tiny, gentle hand on Willy's left shoulder.

"What do I do?" asked Willy. The Oompa-Loompas shrugged in unison and the Oompa-Loompa to his right whispered into his ear. "I think I like Rosanna – a lot," answered Willy, explaining the situation to his workmen. He was greeted by a chorus of understanding "aha" sounds and knowing grins. He looked up at the Oompa-Loompas standing around him in thick blue overalls, two of which were holding blowtorches, and wailed again. "What do I do about it?"

The Oompa-Loompas backed off, the two blowtorch bearers disposing of the tools before joining the others in a huddle in the centre of the room. Sniffling a little, Willy wiped his eyes and stood up to better view the remains of the glass elevator in the background. He walked over and picked up a securing bolt, passing it from hand to hand carefully. The glass from the walls and base had been removed, leaving the metal cage and the roof in position, the hundreds of buttons now loose and hanging on long wires from the top of the elevator. He wondered if it was possible to fix the thing by the next day, given that it had taken him months to design and build the first time around. Of course, he hadn't had the blueprints to work from then, simply adding to the plans as he added new components to the elevator during construction. With the Oompa-Loompas' help it was feasible that it could be rebuilt, although possibly not tested, by tomorrow afternoon. He heard the Oompa-Loompas stop whispering and replaced the bolt into the collecting dish, turning around to hear the verdict. To his dismay, they shrugged in unison.

"Oh come on!" said Willy. "There must be something you can think of?" The Oompa-Loompas grinned back at him, clearly amused by something. "I need your help. I can't think – I can't work. I can't even smile because every breath I take is painful when I'm not with her. And she still cares for her old fiancé which just rips my heart out," said Willy, his bottom lip quivering. The Oompa-Loompas stopped grinning and grimaced instead, unsettled by this new news. Willy put a hand to his mouth and shut his eyes, willing the pain to go away. He felt a tug on the bottom of his coat and crouched down to listen to the Oompa-Loompa now standing by his knee. Instead of speaking however, the Oompa-Loompa took Willy's cane from him and used the pointed tip to point at a sign on the wall.

Health and Safety Notice 

_Due to the dangerous nature of the equipment used in this room, any employee suffering from acute physical, mental or emotional discomfort is hereby granted the day off to recover in order to avoid any unpleasant incidents._

_W.W._

The Oompa-Loompa circled the words "emotional discomfort" with the cane and pointed at the door, indicating that Willy should leave. Willy shook his head.

"No – I have to help you rebuild the elevator – I have to!" As Willy turned back to the elevator and reached for the nearest screwdriver, he felt his cane whack him across the back of the knees. "What the He-?" he shouted, falling backwards onto a cushion of tiny hands that carried him out of the Repairs room and up the corridors to his private rooms.

"This is against factory policy! This is insubordination! You wait until I tell your chief!" shouted Willy, protesting all the way to his bedroom. The Oompa-Loompas allowed him to stand upright by the door and one of them meekly handed him his cane back. Willy thought about arguing about staying in his room, but the Oompa-Loompas had blocked his way and had folded their arms in a manner that brooked no argument. He sighed impatiently. "Fine!" he snapped, turning and opening the door into his bedroom, slamming it behind him after entering. He heard keys turning in the lock and realised the familiar weight of the keyrings in his pocket was missing – the Oompa-Loompas having stolen them. He sank down onto the end of the bed, watching the minute hand on his clock slowly travel around the face as he sank into a sulk.

After half an hour of this, Willy stood up stiffly and stretched. There was very little point in sulking to that kind of severity without an audience and sulking had never worked for him anyway. He glanced back at the clock and saw it was nearly 9 o'clock – far too early to be going to bed. In an effort to distract himself Willy plodded over to his bookshelf and selected a novel at random. He turned off the main lights and stumbled over to the bed, collapsing back fully clothed and reaching for the bedside lamp as he bounced off his pillows. It was only after propping himself up and kicking off his shoes that Willy realised he'd picked up Bram Stoker's Dracula, hardly the most comforting bedtime reading. He debated getting out of bed and changing the book, but like a dog whining because it's lying on a nail, he really couldn't be bothered and resigned himself to reading the dog-eared copy. He fell asleep shortly afterwards, still fully clothed and with the book clasped in his right hand, dreaming strange dreams of vampiric lemons.

As another rainy morning dawned over the factory, innocent rays of rays filtered through the glass of Willy Wonka's bedroom. One of them hit him in the face, causing a blink reflex that woke the great chocolatier up. Willy went from unconscious to wide-awake in less than two seconds and sat up with a ramrod straight back. It took him a few moments to realise he was still dressed, whereupon he scowled in disgust and stood up, removing the now rather musty clothes and dropping them into the laundry basket cunningly concealed behind a statue of an Oompa-Loompan goddess of medicine. Willy averted his eyes from the more – tribal – parts of the statue, really not in the right mood to appreciate native art. He gagged on his morning breath and staggered to the bathroom, occasionally muttering "Gross," at either his appearance or odour. He switched the radio to something uplifting and clicked out his neck before taking a last, critical look in the mirror. _Could be worse._ Stepping into the shower, he turned on the water and hung his head backwards, letting the scalding-hot water cascade down his neck and body.

Obviously, his thoughts turned to the night before as he reached for the shampoo. He was surprised to find that the fear and loathing he'd felt at the realisation he could like Rosanna had faded overnight to a feeling of worried hope. Worry, because he didn't know how she felt about him. Hope, because he couldn't think of a logical reason for anyone to want to spend as much time in his company as she did unless she was 'interested' in him. _Unless of course she's a spy, _thought Willy, massaging the shampoo into his hair. _That might explain why she wants to see every room in the factory. _He wasn't convinced by this line of reasoning however and tried another as he rinsed his hair through. _She might be after my money – after all, I am rich and I am well known for my generosity._ Willy paused before grabbing the pineapple conditioner and wondered how rich he was at the moment – the actual amount in his bank account tending to change on an almost daily basis. He squirted a blob of strong-smelling conditioner into his hand and massaged it through his hair from the roots to the tips. _She did say she was out of work – I do hope I'm not simply an attractive meal ticket. _He laughed at the double meaning in the sentence and the tiny part of him that was modest edited out the word attractive.

_If she is interested, why bring up Heath?_ He replayed the conversation through in his head and debated whether it was the fact Heath had turned out to be a cad or the inability to have children that had upset Rosanna more. _If it's the latter, I may have been correct in my original hypothesis. Stupid name anyway. _Willy reached for the shower gel and hummed along to the radio for a few minutes as he finished showering. Whatever Rosanna's feelings, he was not going to find out until that evening at the earliest and his typical business-man persona took over, demanding that he spend today supervising the factory he'd neglected over the last few days. _So be it_, thought Willy, stepping out of the cubicle and reaching for one of the wonderful fluffy towels. _Today I run the factory and tonight… This evening rather… I talk to Rosanna. _He caught his reflection in the mirror, recognising the steely glint in his eyes from ten years previously when he'd decided to close the factory and pack up to search for new candy flavours. He was nervous and excited at the prospect of finding out Rosanna's feelings for him, the thrill of the forthcoming events charging him with energy much as his adventures in Loompaland had. He reached for a pot of hair cream and worked it through his hair, swaying confidently in time to the music from the radio, only dimly aware that men really shouldn't dance along to Kate Bush's Wuthering Heights.

An hour later, his hair dried into the soft bob he'd sported since the age of eighteen, Willy sighed as another hairpin broke in his lock. It was approaching nine o'clock and Willy was now desperate to get out to the rest of his factory. The Oompa-Loompas had neglected to return his keys however, resulting in a bit of impromptu lock picking. He reached for another pin and fiddled it in the keyhole, giving a satisfied smirk as there was a quiet click from the lock and the door swung open. Willy stood and straightened his hat before opening the door fully and striding out to face whatever the factory had to throw at him today.

Charlie crumpled the crisp packet in his hands and looked at his watch – five minutes to go until the end of morning break. Lesson 3 would be starting any minute. He supposed that he ought to look at his timetable and find out where he had to go next. He kneeled down behind the bin in front of him and posted the crisp packet, rummaging through his bag as he did so in an attempt to find the blasted student planner the school insisted he carried around with him and got signed by his mother every week. Not that he ever remembered to record his homework in it in any case. It was while Charlie was thus concealed behind the garbage receptacle that he heard a boy's laugh from close by. Charlie ignored the laughter until the boy spoke, apparently to a friend.

"Let's see it then," said the boy, a slight gruffness spoiled by the childish treble that betrayed the fact he could only be a little older than Charlie. There was a rustling of paper and a pause. "He looks a right perv in that hat."

"Sick to think that he's got that kid in his factory," said a second voice, a little higher than the first. Charlie's ears pricked and he froze, intent on listening to the rest of the conversation.

"----ing poof," said the first voice.

"Yeah. I mean, if I had that wrapped around my neck, I wouldn't have fallen off!" added a third voice, one which reminded Charlie of a moderately educated gorilla. There was a peal of moronic laughter from the group.

"That's 'cause you're not so gosh-darn gay!" laughed the second voice, mocking Willy's comment from the night of the circus.

"I'll never eat his chocolate again," said the first voice. "Bloody paedo…" Charlie's blood boiled at this comment and he stood up from behind the bin, fists coiled ready for attack.

"He's not a paedo! He's not gay! He's a genius and you have no right…" Charlie's voice faltered and he looked up as the sunlight was blocked by three giant shadows.

"What do we have here?" slimed the third voice, which Charlie was not surprised to find belonged to a spotty youth from the year above with sallow skin and bad breath. "You're Charlie Bucket aren't you?" Charlie nodded, anger building inside him and muting any argument. "Did it upset you that we picked on your boyfriend?" The slimy boy laughed and Charlie snapped, pushing the youth and causing him to fall over on his backside. Charlie felt his personal space invaded as two hands grabbed onto his left arm.

"You're going to regret that…" said the gorilla-like member of the group.The thought that no normal human had a forehead that high flashed through Charlie's mind, then he screamed.

By lunchtime, it was clear that the Oompa-Loompas had the factory well under control and that Willy's temporary neglect of his duties as manager had not adversely affected production. Other than an odd request from one of the cleaning staff for a pay increase, the morning passed without incident, Willy granting the pay increase because he could see no logical reason not to and because he rarely received such requests from his workers. The Oompa-Loompa concerned gave a little dance in response to the news he was now a whole 5 cocoa beans a week richer and ran off. The only room that had not seen its usual share of activity was the Inventing Room, and it was to this room that Willy was to devote the majority of his attention during the afternoon. When Charlie arrived in the Inventing Room after school, Willy had put the finishing touches to the decorations on the prototype Nut Crunch Surprise Christmas Trees, the decorations having taken the longest to perfect as peanut brittle was not the most amenable of media in which to work.

"Hey Mr Wonka," said Charlie in greeting, plonking himself down on a stool.

"Hey Charlie – try one of these," said Willy, holding out one of the Christmas trees. Charlie squinted at the sweet suspiciously. The tree was no more than an inch long, yet looked surprisingly realistic in its miniature red pot, complete with gold star on top and red baubles. He bit into the tree and grinned as the taste of toffee and walnut melted over his tongue. He crunched on the decorations for a while before delivering his verdict.

"Fantastic," said Charlie. "When do we start making them?"

"Tomorrow. The production line is nearly complete and I've already shown the Oompa-Loompas how to decorate the trees to the highest standard. I finished these myself to show you," he finished, holding up a box containing eleven remaining Christmas trees. Each tree sparkled with different colour baubles and Charlie nodded appreciatively – they were sure to be best sellers this Christmas. "We can start sending them out to shops next week," said Willy with a little victory dance.

"Wow."

"Your idea, Charlie."

"I know."

"Where would we be without you eh? I wouldn't have had a new product for the Christmas season without you. We're a great team Charlie."

"I suppose," said Charlie, a little upset at something.

"Hey little guy, what's wrong?"

"What if that's the only idea I ever have? What happens when the factory's mine and all I can do is continue making the candies you've designed?"

"That will never happen so long as you keep what's in here," said Willy, tapping Charlie on the head gently. "Imagination," he added, just in case his apprentice had missed the point. Willy knelt down next to Charlie and looked into the boy's eyes for a moment. "I picked you because you love candy as much as I do."

"No, you picked me because I was the only child not presumed permanently scarred or dead at that point," said Charlie, voicing a concern that had haunted him since February.

"That's not – entirely – true."

"Yes it is! I'm nothing special – I don't come tops in my tests at school, I can't do sports and I can't begin to compare myself to you in terms of imagination!"

"Charlie," said Willy, exasperated and touching a hand to Charlie's face, "you're twelve years old and love candy. That's all I had when I was your age. You've got years of training to go through. Since being here, you've already helped me invent dozens of new products. The kites? The squawking parrot candies? These," he gestured to the box of Christmas trees. "You will be an even greater chocolatier than me and do you know why?"

"Why?"

"You've got the world's greatest mentor!" said Willy, beaming at Charlie and expecting the boy to do the same.

"But I'm nothing special."

"Who told you that?" asked Willy, regarding the pained look on Charlie's face. He pulled Charlie into a bear hug as a tear rolled down from Charlie's left eye, causing the boy to cry out in pain and pull back, nursing his arm. "What's happened?" asked Willy.

"Nothing," sniffled Charlie.

"Come on, out with it." Charlie shook his head and Willy, hating himself for doing it, adopted his stern, adult voice before continuing. "I shall have to tell your parents if you don't tell me."

"Please don't! It's nothing they can help with anyway."

"Charlie please," said Willy, touching a hand gently to Charlie's forearm. "What's wrong?" Charlie looked down and reluctantly pulled up his left shirt sleeve, revealing large bruises that looked fresh. Willy's face flushed with anger and he stood, pacing back and forth around the Inventing Room. "Who did this to you?"

"Three of the boys in the year above," whispered Charlie.

"Why?"

"Because I…"

"Why?"

"Because I stood up for you!" cried Charlie. "They had a picture of you at the circus with Elaina and were laughing about you, saying you were gay and making fun of the way you talk and I told them to stop and pushed the one with the picture."

"And then they hurt you?"

"Yes." Charlie pulled his sleeve back down and looked at the floor. "Sorry for crying Mr Wonka." Willy didn't quite know what to say at this – he was flattered Charlie had made the effort to protect him, but was distressed that the boy's loyalty had led to such pain. Willy sat down in his thinking chair and beckoned Charlie to walk over to him, cuddling the child into his shoulder as he spoke.

"Don't ever apologise for crying Charlie. And thanks for sticking up for me."

"It's what you did for me," said Charlie quietly.

"Next time, just ignore it and walk away. It doesn't matter to me what a group of spotty teenagers thinks of me."

"But they don't know you – they don't have the right!"

"If they did know me, you think they'd stop? Because I don't. People like them Charlie – bullies – don't care what a person's really like if they can get a kick out of insulting them. I don't want you risking this treatment again just because some arrogant yobs say something you know isn't true."

"But Mr Wonka…"

"No Charlie. Pick your battles – and fight them when you can win, not when you're outnumbered three to one."

"You don't – you always stick up for what you believe in!"

"I don't Charlie. When I closed the factory it was because I knew I couldn't win if I tried to fight the other candy-makers. Sure, I could have found out who the spies were over time, perhaps sued Prodnose and the others, but to what end? Every employee would still be a target for the competition and money can buy people's loyalty from you, Charlie. Perhaps not where people like your Grandpa Joe are concerned, but you know as well as I do that not everyone's as honest as him. So I took the coward's way out and locked everyone except myself out of the factory. I believed that my good and honest workers deserved better, deserved to come back to work for me, but I was too scared to dare allow them back in. I decided not to fight that battle Charlie and, in a lot of ways, it was the right decision to make. I would never have found the Oompa-Loompas for a start."

"But just because you feel guilty about what you did, doesn't mean I can let them say those horrible things about you!"

"Did what they say affect me or the factory in any way?"

"No, but…"

"If you'd walked away, would these Christmas trees still have been finished and ready for sale?"

"Yes, but…"

"And would Wonka's candy bars still be the world's greatest even if Charlie Bucket had ignored three ignoramuses today?"

"Yes, of course."

"Then put them out of mind Charlie and for pity's sake don't get into any more fights at school. Come on, let's get back to your place."

"Don't tell Mum and Dad."

"I'm going to have to Charlie."

"But you promised!"

"No, I didn't. I'm not your father and it is not up to me to decide what to do about those bullies at school. You and your parents need to talk about that tonight."

"But no!"

"But yes!" Willy stood and held his hand out to Charlie, who refused it.

"You think you know how to solve everything but you don't! All that will happen if you tell Mum and Dad is that they won't let me out of the house again."

"I'm sure they wouldn't do anything so irrational," said Willy, aware that _he_ would in a heartbeat if Charlie's future was his sole concern.

"Please don't tell them! I thought you were my friend. But you're just like them – you don't understand at all! You don't care what I want," shouted Charlie, angry tears pouring down his face before he gave a sad little snort and ran from the room. Willy gave a horrified shudder at Charlie's reaction. Surely Charlie couldn't think those things about him? He was his heir, his joy, his friend… the closest thing he was ever going to have to a son. Willy ran out of the door after Charlie, hoping he could catch up with him.

Willy arrived at the Bucket house moments after Charlie had entered and banged up to his bedroom without a word to any of his family. When a dishevelled Willy Wonka burst through the door, the Bucket family simply watched in astonishment as Willy crossed to the bottom of Charlie's ladder and looked up to the bedroom above.

"Charlie, I'm sorry if you think you can't trust me, but it's for your own good."

"Go away!" replied Charlie from the rafters.

"What's going on?" asked Mr Bucket.

"Charlie overheard some older children saying something about me earlier and tried to teach them a lesson with his fists. They ganged up on him and hurt him," said Willy, one hand on the ladder and a foot on the chest of drawers at the base.

"Charlie Bucket, you get down here this minute!" shouted Mrs Bucket, "I will not have you fighting at school!"

"I didn't fight! I pushed one of the boys and then they grabbed hold of me," said a muffled voice, Charlie by now buried in his duvet cover.

"Charlie come down," said Mrs Bucket in a softer voice. "I know they hurt you, but maybe we can make things better – talk to your teachers, I'm sure they wouldn't be too pleased with the boys who did this to you."

"That'll just make things worse!" sobbed Charlie.

"No it won't Charlie – that's just what bullies say to stop their victims getting help," said Mr Bucket reasonably.

"I'm not a victim!" protested Charlie.

"I know son, but please come down." When there was no answer, Mr Bucket turned to Willy and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You'd better go and fetch Miss Derby, Willy, you'll be late otherwise. Don't worry, we'll take care of Charlie," said Mr Bucket, ushering Willy towards the door.

"Rosanna will understand, I want to find out if Charlie's okay," said Willy. "He didn't want me to tell you."

"So why did you?" asked Charlie from above in a broken voice.

"Because I care about you Charlie! Darnit, I'd do anything to stop you being hurt, anything!" Silence greeted this remark and Willy took this as Charlie's reluctant acceptance of what Willy had just said. Willy climbed up the ladder to Charlie's bedroom and squeezed himself into the tiny room, contorting his thin frame until he was able to sit next to the bed. Charlie was buried underneath the covers, sobbing quietly. "Nice room," said Willy, looking around at the chocolate wrappers stuck with sticky tape to the walls. "Sorry Charlie but it is for your own good you know."

"No it's not. Now they'll tell me off for fighting at school and they'll go up the school and embarrass me."

"Did I embarrass you at the school?"

"No."

"What makes you think your parents will?"

"Because."

"That's neither an answer nor a sentence, Charlie."

"Because they're my parents," said Charlie in a quiet voice that was just on Willy's edge of hearing.

"And you're embarrassed about having them I suppose?" Willy shuffled further to the end of Charlie's bedroom and stretched his legs over the end of the attic floor, dangling his feet above the grandparents' bed. He waited for the reaction he knew was coming.

"No, not really," said Charlie, emerging from the covers and sitting up behind Willy.

"Then why do you think it'll be embarrassing if they go up to the school?"

"Didn't your Dad ever embarrass you?"

"Yes, he fixed that God-awful brace to my head, remember?"

"But if the other kids see Mum and Dad up the school…"

"Don't you think your parents have the sense to go up after school tomorrow when the other kids have gone home? Or to talk to your teachers by telephone?" Willy looked down at Mr and Mrs Bucket who nodded at him vigorously.

"Yeah, but…"

"No buts. Now, are you coming downstairs or do I have to tell Miss Derby that you're the reason she's been left in the rain again?"

"Okay, I'll come down," groaned Charlie. "I still wish I hadn't told you though." He crawled forward until he was level with Willy.

"I know. But everything will look better in a few days, I promise." Willy gave Charlie a lop-sided grin and waited as Charlie took the ladder down to the main living room, following his apprentice as soon as it was safe to do so. Charlie ran across the living room and into his mother's waiting arms, burying his head in her dress and starting to sob again. Mr Bucket walked up to Willy, who was just jumping the last few rungs of the ladder, and whispered to him quietly.

"How did you find out?"

"He was upset – when I gave him a hug he flinched and showed me a bruise."

"Where?"

"Left arm," Willy whispered back. "I'll leave this to you – you are his parents after all," said Willy, quickly ducking out of the house. Mr Bucket walked over to Charlie and gently pulled up the sleeve of his son's shirt, hissing through his teeth when he saw the bruise.

"Oh, Charlie," sighed Mr Bucket. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Sorry Dad," replied Charlie, his voice muffled by his mother's embrace. Mr Bucket didn't scold his son as Charlie had been expecting, nor did he demand a fuller explanation of Charlie's behaviour. Instead, he circled his arms around both his wife and his son and held them both close while Charlie had his cry-out.

* * *

"All fixed?" asked Willy. The Oompa-Loompas either side of the elevator doors nodded and one of them produced Willy's keys and handed them up to him. He acknowledged both of the Oompa-Loompas with a polite bow and stepped into the elevator, hoping that Rosanna would be pleased to see him as he felt he needed cheering up after his second 'mentor moment' this week. 

A short while later, Willy landed carefully outside Rosanna's hotel at a little after five-thirty. She was already waiting outside on the steps, a black golf umbrella shielding her from the rain, her concern over whether Willy was going to make it on time and in one piece still evident on her face as Willy opened the elevator doors. Willy pulled a face at the rain and waved frantically for her to come to him so that he wouldn't get soaked. Rosanna trotted over as quickly as possible, splashing through the puddles and dripping water from the ugly brown coat she'd thrown on to keep out the rain.

"Hey stranger," she said, smiling and shaking the umbrella out of the door. "Why the long face?" she continued, puling off the coat and revealing a black top and blue jeans. Willy closed the doors and hit the thruster button, raising the elevator from the road surface and piloting it towards the factory.

"Charlie and I had an argument."

"About what?"

"He was being bullied at… hang on, forgot something," said Willy. He set the elevator controls to autopilot and looked down at Rosanna.

"You were going to say school right?"

"Yeah. He told me and then I said I'd have to tell his parents."

"Quite right too," said Rosanna.

"I thought so too, but Charlie got really miffed and said I didn't understand. He ran off crying and I'm still not sure that everything's okay between us." Willy looked down, folding his hands over the top of his cane,and his face clouded over again. Rosanna noticed and put a gentle hand on Willy's arm.

"Need a hug?" she asked quietly. Willy's heart gave a leap at the offer and he nodded briefly, not wanting to appear too desperate. Rosanna gladly took advantage of the opportunity offered and wound her arms around Willy's waist, resting her head on his chest and closing her eyes as the world sped away from them underfoot. Willy was aware of his pulse racing in his ears and tried to loosen his grip on his cane to return the embrace, finding himself utterly unable to move. He tried twice more then sighed in frustration and Rosanna, thinking that he was uncomfortable, backed off.

"Sorry, just hoping everything will be alright," said Willy, inwardly cursing himself all the while for his inability to hold Rosanna.

"I'm sure it will be. Charlie's only a kid and kids don't bear grudges. Especially not kids like Charlie."

"Thanks."

"So, what's on your mind apart from your heir?"

"Nothing," said Willy, looking away from Rosanna. He knew that, if he was going to say anything, now would not be the time unless he'd at least tried to make polite conversation first. "You look nice," said Willy. "The jeans make your legs look really thin." Willy looked out the window and felt himself cringe. "That was awful wasn't it?"he mumbled, knowing that his lack of experience with women had probably insulted her again. Rosanna had thought the comment unusual, but her mild annoyance waned quickly when he reminded herself that this was Willy Wonka and not the usual boorish men who had commented on her legs in the past.

"Yes, but at least it was sincere," laughed Rosanna. "At least you didn't say skinny, that would have been dreadful." She was inwardly pleased he'd noticed – it showed some promise for the future at least, even if he still complained when she hugged him.

"There's nothing wrong with skinny legs," said Willy, trying to pull his frock coat around himself to shield the offending limbs from view.

"Never said there was."

"Good." Willy looked down and shuffled his feet nervously. "Rosanna, I wanted to tell you something," he added quietly, wondering if this was the right moment but deciding to press on anyway.

"Yes Willy?" Rosanna felt her heart flutter and took two steps closer to Willy. Surely he wasn't about to tell her what she thought she could read in his face? She looked up into his eyes. Willy felt his resolve crumble and floundered for an alternative sentence, the sweet look on Rosanna's face distracting him completely from the task.

"It's chicken for dinner tonight, I hope that's okay," he substituted quickly. _That was pathetic! Did you see the look on her face? What's wrong with you man?_ Rosanna's expression had changed from interested curiosity to confused amusement as she turned to regard the silhouette of the approaching factory.

"Chicken's fine," she muttered. Willy rolled his eyes and shook his head at his own inability to express emotion. "We're there," she added, smiling at Willy.

"I'll park and we can go straight to dinner." Willy turned away and punched at the landing controls, the thousand other things he could have said apart from "chicken for dinner tonight" running through his mind, mocking him.

Not very long afterwards, Willy and Rosanna were walking towards the Bucket house when Charlie and Mr Bucket appeared through the door and came to greet them. Charlie was looking a little ashamed and held his hand out to Willy.

"Sorry Mr Wonka," said Charlie quietly. "I didn't mean it and thanks for looking out for me all the time."

"No problem Charlie," answered Willy, taking the boy's hand and shaking it gently. "That's an awfully formal apology though," he added, "and I think it needs an appropriate punishment." Willy looked seriously at Charlie for a moment before bending down and picking him up with little difficulty, swinging him around in circles until Charlie, laughing breathlessly, begged for mercy. "Still wanna be friends even though I'm an interfering old fool who can't keep a secret?" said Willy, dropping Charlie to the ground.

"Yeah. I like you and my parents interfering, don't ever stop," pleaded Charlie.

"Oh, I might have to if you keep shouting at me like that. Now go inside and help your mother, squirt," he added, ruffling Charlie's hair. Charlie grinned and ran off, looking far more like the young lad who'd come to the factory in February than he had in months.

"I've grounded Charlie fora week, Mr Wonka, because of what he said to you," said Mr Bucket quietly as Charlie retreated into the house.

"That's not necessary," protested Willy.

"It is. I cannot have him thinking that it's appropriate to speak to you like that."

"Thanks. I think. But he's been through enough without spending time without his friends."

"The punishment stands, Mr Wonka. I'd appreciate it if you didn't debate it in front of Charlie."

"Of course not – I would never dream of undermining you like that."

"Good." Mr Bucket walked off after Charlie and left Willy and Rosanna standing in the middle of the sugar meadow.

"You know what your major problem is Willy Wonka?" said Rosanna quietly, linking her arm through Willy's.

"What?"

"You're too damn nice," she smiled up at him and stroked his arm gently. "If he'd said that to me I'd have been only too happy to hear he was grounded, but you just want to make him happy, even now."

"He's a lovely lad, Rosanna. He means the world to me." Willy looked a little sad, despite the touching words and for a moment Rosanna was worried he was about to disappear into the sort of flashback he'd mentioned to her the day before. She was therefore pleased when he continued talking. "If he'd come here without his family I'd have adopted him, but as his family's here I'm happy to be an uncle to him. Uncles have all the fun without any of the punishments and rules and stuff," said Willy, drifting off for a second.

"I'm pleased you get along so well."

"It would be difficult to leave my factory to him if we did not," agreed Willy. "Come on – food's getting cold!"

"Do you always think with your stomach?" she chided good-naturedly.

"Only on Thursdays…" said Willy, leading the way into the Bucket residence, Rosanna still on his arm and his heart in his throat as a result. He hoped that dinner would offer some inspiration, but knew that poultry was rarely considered the most romantic of meats. All he could do was wait until the right opportunity presented itself, and pray that he'd know what to say when it did.

* * *

**This chapter has been rewritten many times and I'm still not entirely happy with it – so please read and review! I need to know what's wrong with it because I can't put my finger on it. Annoyingly.**

**In the next chapter…**

**Rosanna decides on a future career. Dr Wonka finds out that Willy has feelings for Rosanna. And something unexpected happens on Friday night.**

**The next chapter (The Right Opportunity) will not be posted until next weekend at the earliest – I'm off on holiday, so please bear with me!**


	16. The Right Opportunity

**I have returned from sub-tropical Swanage. Here, as promised, is chapter sixteen. With added fluff, just for good measure.**

* * *

Rosanna pushed her plate away in protest as Mrs Bucket tried to ply her with more chocolate fudge cake.

"I can't eat another bite!" she announced. "It was excellent, but I really can't. Two slices is more than enough." Mrs Bucket smiled and stopped trying to force-feed Rosanna, something she was apt to do with guests since coming to the factory. Willy looked as though he might be about to say something in a similar vein, however his sweet tooth got the better of him and he helped himself to a third slice without meeting Rosanna's eyes. As he nibbled at the cake he watched as the Bucket family bombarded Rosanna with questions.

"Where are you going to live now?" asked Grandpa George.

"I'm at a hotel at the moment, but I have found a cheap flat to rent. All I need now is a job," sighed Rosanna. "I have an interview tomorrow, but I'm not sure how that will go."

"Where?" asked Mrs Bucket.

"The leisure centre – they're looking for a pool attendant. It's nothing much, but I'd just clear the rent every week with a bit of extra money."

"Would you be able to give lessons?" asked Mrs Bucket.

"I suppose so."

"Mention that at the interview – they run classes at the pool for kids and I'm sure they could use another instructor."

"They'll probably insist I go through some qualifications first," grumbled Rosanna, fiddling with her teaspoon and rattling it against the saucer a few times. "If I don't get it I'll just have to find something else – I could always distribute catalogues or sell make-up or something."

"If you're desperate, I could ask at the toothpaste factory," offered Mr Bucket.

"Thanks – I may take you up on that." Rosanna sighed a little at that, refusing to believe that she was going to be forced into the 'adult' world of work rather than continue in the unconventional types of jobs she'd held to date.

"Would you be happy though?" asked Willy.

"A job's a job. As long as it pays the rent and I have some free time, I don't mind." Rosanna did, but the practicality of finding and paying for somewhere to live was going to necessitate some kind of work. The family seemed to sense she was lying, but allowed her a little quiet time as they turned their attention to other matters, including whether custard or cream was the correct accompaniment for apple pie (courtesy of Willy) and whether orange was a good colour for a teapot (guess who). After an hour of pleasant and occasionally dotty conversation, Willy stood and gave an exaggerated stretch.

"If you don't mind Mrs Bucket, there's somewhere I'd like to take Rosanna before I escort her home and if I don't do it now, I'm going to fall asleep at the table."

"You go ahead dear," said Mrs Bucket. "It was a pleasure meeting you Rosanna – and good luck tomorrow! You must come to dinner tomorrow night to let us know how it went."

"I will, if you don't mind that is," Rosanna added, turning to Willy. "I realise that I will have to pass through your factory to get to the house."

"I don't mind. You are welcome at any time," said Willy, determining to inform the Oompa-Loompas to give Rosanna free access to the factory whenever she arrived at the gates.

"Until tomorrow then," said Mrs Bucket, giving Rosanna a friendly smile. Rosanna made her goodbyes and Willy waited patiently at the door of the house for her, all the while steeling himself to reveal his feelings for her later that night.

Willy was determined to tell Rosanna how he felt, but was unsure exactly how one went about changing a friendship into something more. All the various romantic movies he'd attempted to watch over the last twenty years had been no help – the two characters involved in the relationship somehow developing a psychic link that quite did away with the need for the phrase "I like you – would you like to take this further?" That or they had simply declared their undying love for each other upon meeting. Willy wasn't sure he actually _loved _Rosanna yet, considering that a fortnight was too short a time to have developed that depth of feeling for her and there was something dreadfully cliched about the idea of professing his undying devotion to someone who, two weeks ago, had been totally unknown to him. However, informing her that he _liked _her didn't quite cover the range of emotions he had experienced over the last few days concerning her. It was a perplexing problem and one that was unlikely to be solved while still loitering inside the ramshackle Bucket house. He hoped that once he and Rosanna were alone, the right words would mysteriously appear inside his head and flow automatically from his mouth without conscious intervention. Willy had even considered a glass of "Dutch courage" before telling her, but realised that after a few shots of whiskey he would be unlikely to say anything that sounded remotely sincere. So it was that Willy Wonka, stone-cold sober and feeling nauseous from a combination of too much fudge sauce and nerves, stood at the door of the Bucket house waiting for Rosanna to join him.

Rosanna gave Charlie a quick hug as goodbye and trotted over to Willy, linking her arm into his as they exited the house and trudged through the swudge towards the glass elevator.

"That was an excellent meal," sighed Rosanna happily. "I'm so pleased that Molly invited me back tomorrow night."

"So am I," said Willy. It had, at least, removed the need for him to invent an excuse to bring Rosanna back to the factory. "How do you think the interview will go tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure. I haven't actually had a formal interview before – when I joined the circus, they just presented me with a horse and told me to show them what I could do."

"Maybe the leisure centre will do the same?"

"I suppose I should take my swimming costume then."

"Would you be interested in giving lessons?"

"Not really. Perhaps to adults."

"Are there many adults who can't swim?" Willy looked thoughtful as he asked the question, wondering if Rosanna would think him foolish for never having learned.

"Quite a few actually – Elaina for one. Why do you ask?"

"Would you consider private lessons?"

"For who – Charlie?"

"Me," said Willy, braving the potential embarrassment in order to have an excuse to invite Rosanna back to the factory on a weekly basis as a swimming instructor should she be uninterested in a relationship with him.

"You can't swim?" asked Rosanna. She had assumed, given his adventures in Loompaland and his habit of climbing that infernal mountain every month, that something as mundane as swimming would be in Willy's collection of physical skills.

"No," said Willy quietly, regretting the decision to tell her as he felt sure that he was supposed to be impressing her tonight, not revealing every little character flaw.

"Of course I'll teach you," said Rosanna. Her vivid imagination threw up an image of Willy in speedos and she coloured at the thought, feeling her throat tighten. She coughed to clear it and continued. "Where exactly? I doubt you'd be comfortable in the leisure centre."

"I'm having a swimming pool built out the back of the factory – it should be finished after Christmas."

"We'll start in the New Year – it can be your New Year's resolution!"

"Good idea!" said Willy, smiling down at her gratefully. New Year's was two months away and he had plenty of time to finish the factory extension and swimming pool by that time, not to mention the need to develop the courage to be seen in anything other than his full outfit of clothes.

"Why the sudden need to learn?"

"I had a little incident with the chocolate river."

"You fell in?"

"Something like that." Willy shuddered involuntarily at the memory of all that wasted chocolate he'd insisted had been purged from the system. Twice in one year too thanks to that gross Gloop child. "I nearly drowned."

"You poor thing," said Rosanna, patting Willy's arm sympathetically while thinking how fortunate it was that Willy had survived – she might never have met him otherwise.

"It was quite warm actually. But I'd rather not have to rely on the Oompa-Loompas to pull me out next time."

"Fair enough." Rosanna allowed herself the luxury of a mental picture of Willy in the aforementioned speedos _and covered in chocolate_ while Willy opened the elevator doors and stepped inside, pulling Rosanna after him. He pressed a button behind him and turned back to Rosanna with a brilliant smile.

"So, where is this grotty little flat you're thinking of renting?"

"Not far from the hotel."

"You shouldn't be staying in that part of town. It's," Willy's limited experience of the outside world caused its usual problem in these circumstances and he floundered for an appropriate word, "icky."

"Uber-icky, I agree, but all I can afford."

"I could help…"

"No. I can't rely on you for the rent."

"You could stay here," said Willy, the offer out of his mouth as soon as he'd considered the implications of Rosanna staying in so rough an area and walking to work across the town every morning and night. "You'd be safer," he reasoned.

"But if we fell out, I'd be homeless. Besides, you might need the guestrooms for someone else."

"There are ten guestrooms – and only once have they ever been filled and that was when I first opened the factory and had cocoa bean growers from Ghana and Uganda staying here."

"Is that why you built in the guestrooms?"

"Yes. There's also a dining room, but that's been covered in dust sheets since the Cuban delegation left twelve years ago."

"Where do you get your cocoa beans from?"

"The Fair Trade organisation provides me with a list of growers every so often – I try to balance my imports between the growers."

"That's very caring of you – why don't you mark the chocolate as Fair Trade?"

"Do you think I should?" Willy puckered his face a little as he considered the idea.

"Why wouldn't you want people to know?"

"I don't buy the beans from the Fair Trade growers for any reason other than I can then make my chocolate with a clear conscience. It's not like I need anyone else's approval."

"You give to charity as well don't you?"

"Some, yes."

"And no-one knows about this?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's my business. No doubt it would be good publicity if people knew that Wonka chocolate was a Fair Trade product, or that 5 of Battersea Dog's Home's income came directly from me rather than an "anonymous donor," but I don't do it for the publicity."

"That's so sweet of you," gushed Rosanna. She wondered how many charities did have Wonka listed as an anonymous donor on their books and realised she'd probably never know. "I still think you should include the Fair Trade badge on your chocolate."

"I'll think about it."

"It would clear the consciences of the people who eat your chocolate."

"You think?"

"Yes."

"Maybe," said Willy, turning to gaze out at the rooms swishing past the elevator in order to indicate the topic was closed for discussion. Perhaps it would be good for the chocolate to be seen as guilt-free by his customers. But the information on his candy bar wrappers was not his primary concern at the moment. "So, will you consider living here?"

"Maybe one day," said Rosanna, not yet wanting to lose what remained of her new-found independence. The wide-eyed schoolgirl in her wanted to cartwheel at the news she could move into the factory at any time, but the more sensible and jaded adult questioned whether it would be a sensible move. If they were to remain only friends, then she knew she would find living in the same building as Willy upsetting as he would be so close to her and yet still unattainable. If they did progress to having a relationship that eventually failed, she would have to move out and she did not relish the idea of being homeless. She decided it was prudent to have a place of her own until the day it seemed that her relationship with Willy looked permanent. If it ever did so.

"Oh good," said Willy vaguely, peering into the next room as the elevator entered it. Rosanna pressed forward to look at what had caught Willy's attention and groaned.

"Fudge Mountain?"

"I did promise you a trip to the base," said Willy. "Which reminds me…" he leaned over Rosanna and pressed the button for "FM base camp." The elevator slowly changed track and plummeted down towards the ground. Rosanna resolutely fixed her eyes on Willy's jacket and ignored the upward motion of her internal organs for the duration of the trip down.

"Everyone off!" announced Willy, twirling his cane as he led the way out of the elevator into the crisp, sweet air. "And on your left, you can see the refreshment camp and clothing station, while on your right is the ski-lift and fudge depot." He turned to see Rosanna running a hand through her hair and frowning. "Oh – I forgot – quickly, in here." Willy led the way into the clothing depot and hurried Rosanna through the door after him, shutting it rapidly to block out the icing sugar air. He flicked on the light switch and Rosanna looked around the small, wooden hut in awe. There were dozens of ski suits on rails around the walls – most were Oompa-Loompa sized but there were a few of human proportions. Willy selected a ski jacket with a hood for Rosanna and passed it to her.

"Why do I need this – it's not that cold out there?"

"The icing sugar can get stuck in your hair and gunk it up. Keep the hood up and your hair will be protected," answered Willy, shrugging out of his frock coat and into one of the ski jackets himself. He took off his top hat and pulled up the hood over his head, tying the cords tightly to block out any unwanted icing sugar. He turned around and regarded Rosanna, who was similarly tied up in a matching red jacket and looking like a disgruntled Eskimo. Willy passed her a pair of ski goggles and donned a pair himself, drawing a giggle from Rosanna as she thought he looked fairly ridiculous. Willy thought the same about Rosanna's appearance and hid a grin as he crossed back to the door of the hut. "Are you coming?" he asked.

"If you insist," Rosanna replied.

The base camp around Fudge Mountain was small but rather interesting. There were various rude huts in which climbing teams of Oompa-Loompas could be heard enjoying food and drink after their long day's work. The landscape was covered in a fine dusting of icing sugar which gave the surroundings a wintry feel and Rosanna felt that a photograph of the area would make a perfect Christmas card. They walked onwards in silence, the whirls of icing sugar dying out further from the mountain until they stopped altogether. Willy led on to a small ridge and produced a picnic cloth from a small sack he'd picked up in the clothing hut, spreading it on the snow so that he and Rosanna could sit down and enjoy the view. Rosanna waited for Willy to make himself comfortable before plonking herself down next to him, keeping a generous distance between the two of them to avoid any awkward moments.

"What do you think of the mountain from here?" asked Willy. Rosanna looked up to the mountain and beyond to the 'sky,' which was now lit in simulation of the Northern Lights high above the mountaintop. It was really rather…

"Beautiful," said Rosanna. "Are there any other minor miracles in the factory that I haven't seen?"

"Hundreds," replied Willy. "Do you like it here?" he asked quietly. Rosanna turned to face him, but this didn't help Willy an awful lot as her expression was all but unreadable behind the ski goggles and hood. She smiled and Willy hoped it was genuine.

"Yes I do. I think I prefer it even to the chocolate room – it's more peaceful here."

"Rosanna, there's something I need to talk to you about." Willy pulled off his goggles and also removed his hood, not wanting anything to hide his face from Rosanna lest she think he wasn't sincere when he told her how he felt. He was surprised when she followed suit and slipped off her goggles and raised a hand to push down the hood from her ears.

"What is it Willy?" asked Rosanna, hoping that she'd read his mood correctly and that what he was about to tell her was important to their future together. She smiled encouragingly and leaned on her right arm in an attempt to show him she was relaxed and not about to judge him on anything he said. Willy giggled a little and pointed to her hair.

"Your hair's messed up."

"I don't think that's what you brought me out here to tell me," said Rosanna, smoothing her hair back with her left hand as she spoke.

"No, it wasn't, but I couldn't help noticing." He searched for the right words to continue the conversation, but before inspiration could hit was interrupted by a beeping from his pager. He pulled it out from a trouser pocket and read the message irritably. "Willy – hallway ASAP," he read out to Rosanna.

"Shall we go?" asked Rosanna, making to move and hiding her disappointment well.

"No. I have to tell you something first. Something not about your hair." He still found himself at a loss for words and fiddled with his gloves as he searched for inspiration. "You know, I never really had many friends before I met you."

"What about the Buckets?"

"Well yes, but apart from them I mean," blustered Willy, trying against the odds to continue. His stomach had knotted and he wasn't sure he was doing this right, his nerve failing as he looked down at his gloves. "And you've been so kind to me – the hot chocolate, the hugs, the way you always accept and understand why and what I do…"

"That's because you're a unique and wonderful individual Willy Wonka," said Rosanna, reaching over and stroking his right arm gently. "I'm lucky to have you as a friend."

"No – I'm sorry but we're not friends. I mean – we can be, if you like, but there's something wrong with being friends with you." Willy felt his cheeks flush and his hands were sweating inside his gloves, making him grossly uncomfortable. "I know that you know that I haven't really mixed with people before and I'll probably make a mess of things and you'll never want to see me again, but do you think that we…" Willy stopped, out of breath. He gasped a little and looked up from his hands, determined to say the next part to Rosanna's face and not to a pair of latex gloves. "Do you think that you and I could be…" he swallowed nervously. "More than friends?" he squeaked, then exhaled noisily as the tension inside his chest dissipated. He folded forward a little and hugged his knees into his chest. "Please?" he added hopefully in a scared little voice that betrayed more than anything his inner turmoil.

"Are you sure that that's what you want?" asked Rosanna, elated but remaining calm to avoid scaring Willy.

"Yes please," said Willy. "We don't have to, it's just that I… I… I like you. A lot. And I don't think I want to hide it anymore." Contrary to what he'd just said, Willy was now curled up into his knees, his face hidden from view. Rosanna straightened up a little and crawled forward to bring herself closer to Willy. She leaned over and stroked Willy's shoulder gently and brought her mouth down to his ear.

"I like you too," whispered Rosanna. Willy uncurled a little and looked up into her eyes.

"Really?"

"Really." Rosanna grinned at Willy and backed off so that he could uncurl and sit up straight.

"I guessed you know – I thought that no-one would want to spend so much time with me unless they were a spy or… interested."

"You're not that bad you know," laughed Rosanna, reaching out for Willy's right hand and taking it in both of hers.

"Neither are you."

"Even with the cooties?"

"Especially with the cooties," said Willy, smiling back and reaching up with a trembling hand to Rosanna's face to stroke her cheek gently. "Thank you." Rosanna blushed slightly and leaned forward, releasing Willy's hand and stroking her hands up and around his shoulders, drawing a sigh from the enraptured chocolatier.

"Need a hug?" asked Rosanna coquettishly.

"If you don't mind," said Willy, moving his arms out of the way so Rosanna could get closer. She moved forward and slid her hands around him, embracing him tightly and resting her cheek on the ski jacket. Willy closed his eyes and concentrated his attention on the rhythmic beating of Rosanna's heart against his chest. Instinctively, he reached up for her and, despite his nerves, managed to touch her back lightly before he started trembling.

"You okay?" asked Rosanna, looking up to Willy's face.

"Nuh-uh – could you help?" Willy shrugged apologetically and allowed Rosanna to take his hands in her own and awkwardly place them firmly on her waist.

"Better?"

"Mmm-hmm," moaned Willy, pushing his hands slowly around her back and holding her tightly. Rosanna snaked her arms back around his torso and for a few moments neither spoke as they shared their first real embrace.

"Willy?"

"Yes?" Willy pulled back to look down at Rosanna, wondering what she wanted. Rosanna reached a hand up to Willy's face, intent on pulling him closer for a kiss. Willy's aversion to close human contact kicked back in however and he shook violently at her touch. Rosanna snatched her hand back and pouted slightly in frustration. "I'm sorry – it's just habit," said Willy, frowning and scolding himself for being so weak. Noticing the look on Rosanna's face, he tentatively reached for her hand and guided it back to his face, nuzzling into her palm and kissing her wrist as contact was made. Rosanna slipped her hand to the back of Willy's neck and he wrapped his left hand around her wrist, holding it in place.

"May I try to kiss you?" asked Rosanna. Willy gave the smallest of nods and leaned forward, wondering exactly what he was supposed to do next. Rosanna reached her left hand to his right cheek and stood on tiptoe to peck Willy on the lips. She lingered longer than she had intended to, put off somewhat by Willy's emotionless stare as she kissed him. She felt a welcome thrill as Willy closed his eyes and felt him smile through her kiss. Rosanna pulled back and looked up expectantly.

"Is that it?" asked Willy, opening his eyes.

"Well, it could be more, but I didn't think you were up to… well…" she floundered for a more delicate way to explain that slipping her tongue into Willy's mouth would either have floored him or sent him running over the nearest cliff, and failed. "I didn't think you were in the right frame of mind for…" She failed again, but realisation dawned behind Willy's eyes.

"Snogging? Ew, no. It looks gross," said Willy, recalling some of the awful teenage angst movies he'd seen. There had been far too much drool for his liking.

"It's not actually. What did you mean 'is that it?' Was I that bad?" Rosanna was panicked – it had been seven years – what if she had bad breath and hadn't noticed?

"Nothing. I just… I was so scared that something horrible would happen… But that was actually quite nice. Very nice in fact."

"Want to try again?"

"Kay…" said Willy, leaning in for another kiss. He kissed her back this time, enjoying the way the butterflies scrambled in his chest with increasing intensity every minute that passed. He could have spent the rest of the evening locked in that kiss if a horrible thought hadn't suddenly occurred to him.

"Rosanna," he started, pulling back.

"Mmm-hmm?" moaned Rosanna, surfacing and glancing up at Willy with dreamy eyes.

"You're not actually expecting to, you know, um…" he gave a slight sneer and a nervous laugh, "well, _snog_ me are you?"

"I had hoped that perhaps one day…"

"Not tonight. Not ever."

"But Willy…"

"Maybe I'm not ready for this…" Willy broke the embrace and stepped away from Rosanna. "I want to be with you, but as for the icky stuff…"

"We can go as slow as you like. If all you want for now is a quick peck on the lips, that's fine."

"Really? Because that's about all I think I'll ever be able to do."

"I'm sure you're wrong."

"What if I'm not?" asked Willy, walking away and waving his arms as he spoke, trying to convey the enormity of his awkwardness with a limited apposite vocabulary and not all-together succeeding. "What if all I can ever do is kiss you briefly? You'll get bored and leave and I'm not sure I could live with that."

"I won't go anywhere." Rosanna stepped towards Willy and reached out for him, causing him to back away again.

"You will – it'll be just like Heath did to you. It won't bother you at first and then one day you'll just stop caring." Willy's eyes misted and he turned away, screwing up his eyes and suppressing the howl that was forming in his throat. There was a dangerous silence, during which Rosanna weighed up whether she was mortally wounded or just scratched.

"That was low," said Rosanna quietly. "I'm not like Heath and don't you think that having my hopes dashed by a bastard like him would make me ever the more determined not to hurt you like that?"

"You swore."

"Apologies." Rosanna decided that she should have expected this kind of reaction from someone who had not had any kind of intimate relationship before and knew that she would have to swallow her pride in order to salvage the evening. She walked up to Willy and hugged him through the awkward ski jacket. "I'm not going anywhere unless you want me to. There's more to a relationship than just the physical side."

"Promise?"

"I promise. But you have to trust me."

"I do, more than anyone else in the whole world." Willy turned around in Rosanna's arms and found he could hug her back with less hesitation than earlier in the evening. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"Apology accepted." They broke apart again and this time they smiled at each other. "Not bad," said Rosanna, "we were going out for a whole five minutes there before we had our first squabble."

"Will it be the last?"

"No chance."

"But you don't mind that? Is this normal?"

"Probably for us, yes. Now let's get out of these bloody awful jackets and back to somewhere less sticky," Rosanna raised her eyebrows and darted off ahead of Willy towards the clothes hut, Willy scampering behind her like a lovesick puppy.

Five minutes later and Rosanna and Willy were standing in the elevator on the way to the main hallway.

"My hair is ruined," said Rosanna, grimacing as she tried to run a hand through it.

"I told you to put your hood back up," replied Willy with a grin, his hair still near perfect as he'd taken his own advice and protected the valued locks. He hummed quietly and smiled out at the surroundings while the elevator soared upwards.

"And you're grinning like a Cheshire cat because…?"

"I've got a girlfriend, I've got a girlfriend," said Willy in a singsong voice as he bobbed his head from side-to-side, his eyes unfocused and a silly little grin playing on his lips.

"I was wondering when you'd notice," drawled Rosanna, stepping forward to circle Willy with her arms just once more before the elevator reached the front of the factory.

"I think I'm doing quite well considering," said Willy, stroking Rosanna's back gently, cock-a-hoop over the growing warm feeling inside his chest. He giggled nervously as Rosanna released him in time for the elevator to stop at the main portal in the hall. "One kiss?" asked Willy. Rosanna stood on tiptoe to oblige, but Willy stopped her with a gentle finger to her lips. "No, I have to do this," he whispered, lowering his lips to Rosanna's and only slightly trembling as he kissed her. The elevator slowed to a stop without the occupants noticing, unaware that their arrival and continued embrace was being watched by Mr and Mrs Bucket in the hallway. Willy moaned and ran his hands up Rosanna's back, still not daring to deepen the kiss. As Willy drew back from Rosanna, he looked out of the elevator and saw a rather embarrassed pair of Buckets trying to avert their eyes. He opened the elevator door and sheepishly led the way out, passing Mr and Mrs Bucket and avoiding conversation for a few moments. Then he remembered that he had been summoned to the hallway by Mr and Mrs Bucket and turned to face them.

"What's going on?" demanded Willy, straightening up and pretending that the last few minutes could not possibly have occurred. "You're not usually out wandering the factory this late." Mr Bucket held up a cordless telephone handset.

"We were on our way to find you," explained Mr Bucket. "Your father is on the telephone." He handed Willy the handset and Willy winced as he picked it up, as if afraid it would bite.

"Hey Dad," said Willy with forced brightness. Rosanna walked over to the Buckets and tried not to look too embarrassed at being seen in her current bedraggled state. Mr and Mrs Bucket seemed highly amused however, evidently expecting something of this sort to have occurred. Rosanna tried to flatten her hair, but realised that Willy's warning about the icing sugar acting like hair gel had been totally correct and she quickly gave up the effort. Behind her, Willy appeared to be having an argument with his father.

"I was with Rosanna… Yes, actually, she is… What would you know about it? Dad, I didn't mean… Look, it's not fair… Just let me… Dad… Dad… Dad! She's my girlfriend… I'm allowed to have one, I'm nearly forty." There was a long silence, during which muffled expletives could be heard from the handset. "She's not a bloody carnie!" shouted Willy, quite surprising Rosanna and Mr and Mrs Bucket. As the 'heated debate' continued, Mrs Bucket turned to Rosanna.

"Girlfriend?"

"Yes. Looks like I might be hanging around after all," said Rosanna with a smile. "What time is it?"

"Nearly ten."

"Perhaps I'd better get Willy to drop me off soon – the interview's at nine in the morning and I don't want to be late."

"Still going for the interview?"

"Yes – I still need somewhere to live!" laughed Rosanna.

"Dad, I will come and see you next week. And take care," said Willy in the background, pressing the end-call button on the phone and tossing the handset back to Mr Bucket with a flourish. "Duty done," said Willy, visibly relieved the telephone conversation was over.

"Could you drop me at home Willy? I need to wash my hair before tomorrow." Rosanna pulled her hair out from her head sideways and let go, the hair remaining in place and proving her point.

"Of course. Step this way madam," said Willy, gesturing to the elevator door. Rosanna waved at Mr and Mrs Bucket and stepped into the elevator. Willy followed her and pressed the "Up and Out" button immediately. As they gathered speed, he turned to face Rosanna. "Sorry about that. When he calls he insists on speaking to me right away. You'd think he was worried I might be up to something…" he grinned to himself and tuned out for a moment, revelling in the memories of that night's events.

"So, when are you picking me up tomorrow?" asked Rosanna.

"Very presumptuous of you. What makes you think I'm picking you up?"

"Okay, I'll walk from that horrid, dingy street on my own, past all the drunks and hooligans…"

"Five."

"Okay."

A little later, the elevator landed awkwardly in an alley just around the corner from Wright's Way. Willy and Rosanna emerged, arm in arm, and walked in a comfortable and sleepy silence back to the hotel. Once on the steps, Willy pulled Rosanna into a tight embrace.

"Night-night my darling," purred Willy.

"Goodnight Willy," replied Rosanna, pecking him on the cheek with a promise to herself that she'd think of a pet name for him over the next few days. They parted reluctantly (and to a chorus of jeers from the usual crowd of bored teenage boys) and Rosanna headed up the steps into the hotel. With a final wave to Willy, she opened the hotel door and disappeared from sight. Willy looked longingly at the door for a while before giving a last romantic sigh and turning on his heel to skip back to the elevator.

Back at the factory, Willy bounced around his bedroom for a while picking up one book after another and reading the first paragraph of each before deciding it didn't really suit his mood. He had a _girlfriend_ and not only was she nice and sweet and kind and patient and everything else that he'd been told to look out for in a girl on the rare occasions his father had acknowledged that, in the event of Willy being heterosexual, his son would probably like a girlfriend, but she also _liked him_ as much, if not more, than he liked her. This state of affairs was pleasing, but was not conducive towards a good night's sleep, something he was in desperate need of. Remembering his disgust at having unintentionally slept in his clothes the night before, Willy changed into bottle-green silk pyjamas, the material whispering around his legs as he continued pacing around his bedroom. Sleep still eluded him however and at midnight, in a desperate attempt to knock out his conscious brain, he rifled through his limited DVD collection. He selected a trashy film starring Barbara Shelley as a gorgon and popped it into the player across the room. Automatically, a television rose from the end of the bed (an Oompa-Loompa had come up with the idea after watching MTV for too long) and the opening credits rolled. Willy grinned – there was something comforting about trashy horror movies. He snuggled under the covers and concentrated on the movie, giggling occasionally at the rubber snakes and only hiding his face twice in fright.

Just after one o'clock, the movie rolled to a close and Willy dried his tears due to the rather touching ending. He still wasn't tired however and this fact was irritating him greatly. He hated missing sleep – always ending up grouchy by mid-afternoon when he did so. He wandered around switching off all the various lights and electrical appliances in the room before blundering back to bed in the dark and curling up like a cat in the centre of the bed. He couldn't understand why he was having such trouble – surely being 'involved' was supposed to give you a sense of well-being that made it easier to sleep? Was he over-excited and therefore doomed to suffering sleepless nights for the duration of the relationship? Willy considered this for a good while, occasionally shutting his eyes in an attempt to find sleep. He glanced at the luminous clock display – it was past three in the morning now and he still hadn't slept a wink. Uncurling and shuffling onto his back, Willy opened his eyes and stared at the murky black ceiling above him. Years ago, when he'd first sacked his employees and he was alone inside the factory, he'd bought a set of glow-in-the dark stars to keep him company and arranged them in swirling constellations above his head. They were dimly alight even now, spilling out their stored light into the room, fooling him into believing he was outside under a clear sky. Willy started to count the stars and almost fought the increasing fatigue that threatened to claim him before finally sinking into a deep sleep.

Friday morning dawned with a late autumnal mist clinging to the town houses and hiding the lofty towers of the chocolate factory from view of the general populace. Willy paced around the Lookout Tower that doubled as his office, occasionally stopping to gaze out over the town and towards the park through the same windows he'd watched the circus pack up a week before. The sun still hung low in the sky despite it being nearly ten o'clock and the faintlight gave the town a yellow glow that would have been quite eerie if the golden fog hadn't reminded Willy of lemon sherbet. He leafed through his tax returns again and placed them delicately into the pile for the accounts department to deal with. He used to take an interest in accounts and finance before he discovered that the Oompa-Loompa tribe possessed some of the finest mathematicians in the world. Since then, delegation had been his saviour from hours of painful tax calculation. Willy moved on to the next pile of paperwork – his mail from the last two days that he had carelessly neglected. He sank down onto the leather office chair and raised his feet to the desk surface, pulling an envelope at random from the pile and slicing it open with a sword-shaped letter opener.

Mrs Bucket struggled with the door knob and finally managed to force her way into the office, balancing an overly large lunch tray in one hand and a pile of letters in the other.

"Willy – some help here please?" asked Mrs Bucket. Willy straightened from the office chair and staggered over to take the tray from Mrs Bucket, his legs numb from hours of sitting at his desk.

"What's this?"

"You missed lunch."

"What time is it?"

"Nearly three."

"I was wondering why I was in pain," said Willy, clutching a hand to his stomach and snatching at a sandwich from the tray as he crossed back to his desk. "Coffee?" he mumbled through the bread and gestured towards a coffee machine in the corner next to a thoughtfully installed sink.

"Okay." Mrs Bucket dumped the mail onto the desk in the middle of three piles of opened mail (labelled 'important,' 'junk' and 'could probably be ignored but I'll file it just in case' by Willy) and headed over to the coffee machine to pour herself a cup. "Do you want one?"

"Yes please," mumbled Willy, attacking a second sandwich.

"You really shouldn't skip meals you know," said Mrs Bucket, pouring a second cup of coffee for Willy. "You'll make yourself ill."

"No I won't."

"You will," sniped Mrs Bucket good-humouredly, handing him his drink.

"No I won't – you won't let me," grinned Willy over the top of his coffee cup. "I'll be fine. Don't worry. I used to go for days without eating when there was no-one looking after me."

"And no doubt you used to have your best ideas when dying of starvation," sighed Mrs Bucket.

"No, I just used to get lousy headaches," said Willy quite seriously. Mrs Bucket shook her head at him and Willy smiled, cocking his head to one side.

"You're incorrigible."

"I know." Willy stretched out and glared at the paperwork in front of him with distaste.

"Anything I can help with?" asked Mrs Bucket, perching on the end of the desk.

"No, I'm nearly done now anyway. I'll feed the junk mail to a whangdoodle later."

"How?"

"I hear Loompaland's lovely this time of year," yawned Willy, resting his head on the new pile of envelopes brought by Mrs Bucket and moaning softly. "When's Charlie coming home?"

"He'll be back by four. Do you want me to send him up here?"

"I'll come down in an hour. I need to pick Rosanna up anyway."

"What do you think she'd like for dinner?"

"No idea."

"I think it's lovely that the two of you have got together. You make a very sweet couple."

"Sweet like chocolate?" asked Willy with a smile. "Sorry, couldn't resist."

"What did your father say when you told him?" Mrs Bucket took a long swig of the coffee to allow Willy thinking time before she continued. "He seemed a little – upset."

"He was. He is."

"Oh dear," said Mrs Bucket with a frown.

"At least I don't have to see him for a while."

"Well, that's the other reason I came up here…"

"Oh no…"

"He called an hour ago." Mrs Bucket cringed as she carried on. "He's on his way over and will be at dinner tonight."

"Oh bollocks," said Willy, immediately clamping a hand over his mouth as his eyes bulged with the realisation of what he'd just said in front of a woman he really rather respected. "Sorry," he added swiftly and in a far quieter voice.

"Don't worry about it. Michael said something along the same lines."

"How do I get out of this?"

"You don't. He's just going to have to realise what a wonderful person Rosanna is."

"You're assuming my father is a reasonable human being again."

"He is." Willy laughed and leaned back in the chair and swivelled in a half-circle, cupping his hands in imitation of a megaphone.

"Abandoned only child in fit of pique!" he called out.

"It'll be fine," reassured Mrs Bucket, not believing at least one word in that phrase. "Time will tell."

Willy was strangely quiet as he piloted Rosanna towards the factory that evening, barely exchanging more than a few words with her during the trip. As the elevator slowed to a stop in the chocolate room, Rosanna slipped an arm around Willy's waist and cuddled him close to her. Willy stiffened and squirmed uncomfortably in her grip but she refused to let go.

"What's wrong?" asked Rosanna.

"Tonight's going to be a disaster."

"Why? Have you changed your mind?"

"No. It's worse than that."

"How could it possibly be worse?"

"Dad's coming tonight. He might already be here – I don't know."

"Why didn't you say? I could have stayed at home – you know he hates me."

"He came to see you," said Willy quietly.

"Oh." Rosanna looked uncomfortable. "You do want to be with me, right?"

"Right."

"And no matter what he says or does, you won't change your mind?"

"No – but…"

"Then we have nothing to worry about!" Rosanna gave a brave smile. "No matter what he does, we're still going to be together at the end of the night, so just enjoy yourself at dinner tonight." As Willy led her to the Bucket house, Rosanna's smile changed to a rather evil grin. "This is going to be fun," she added quietly.

According to tradition, dinner should have passed in an uneasy silence until Dr Wonka and Rosanna finally exploded at each other, resulting in minor casualties and, in the event of one winning the argument, fatalities. However, Rosanna was not some wide-eyed nymphet with the mental agility of a dead aardvark and she simply refused to allow Dr Wonka's disapproval of her to sour the evening. Upon entering the house and realising that Dr Wonka was in fact already present, she gave a loud, girly squeal and ran to him, throwing her arms around his chest and smiling broadly.

"Oh, Dr Wonka, it's so wonderful to see you again!"

"Charmed," replied Dr Wonka flatly.

"Did Willy tell you the good news?" beamed Rosanna.

"Good news?" questioned Dr Wonka, raising an eyebrow at Willy.

"We're a couple now – isn't that fabulous? Well, obviously not you and I," giggled Rosanna, releasing Dr Wonka and bouncing over to Willy, pulling him into a tight hug. "I meant Willy and myself."

"I was informed," said Dr Wonka through gritted teeth. "Congratulations." The word had never been uttered with so little sincerity before, and probably never will again.

"Drink anyone?" asked Mrs Bucket in order to dispel the tension.

Dinner passed pleasantly enough, with the Buckets maintaining a friendly atmosphere despite the cloud of gloom surrounding Dr Wonka thanks to the infectious enthusiasm of Rosanna's conversation. She was, throughout the evening, polite, sweet, and overly-enthusiastic and, to quote Dr Wonka, utterly charming. Her resolve not to be rude to Dr Wonka started to fail after her third glass of wine however. Willy sat in between Rosanna and his father as the diners drank an after-dinner glass of wine, feeling very much like the net in tennis as polite put-downs and snide comments were batted over his head between the two combatants. Rosanna tried her best not to rise to Dr Wonka's comments about 'circus-folk' but there were occasions where she physically bit her tongue not to respond rudely to his words.

"Miss Derby – I understand that you are no longer with the circus. What do you intend to do instead to support yourself?"

"I had an interview at the leisure centre today, but it didn't amount to anything. I really have no idea what to try for next," said Rosanna with a hint of disappointment in her voice. "Perhaps you have ideas of suitable professions for me?"

"One or two," drawled Dr Wonka. Rosanna saw the others wince at the hidden insult, but she plunged onwards in order to force pleasant conversation from the crotchety old dentist.

"Do tell me about your work – it sounds fascinating!" enthused Rosanna, scarcely believing she was willingly setting herself up for a lecture on cavities and fillings.

"I'm not sure you'd find it very stimulating. There are of course a few highly-strung patients who provide some entertainment."

"Rather like me you mean?"

"Indeed." Dr Wonka glared at Rosanna, who smiled her most irritating and sugary smile in return.

"What got you interested in dentistry?"

"It is highly respected profession and I was a very able pupil at school. It was suggested to me by a tutor at my college."

"So you never fancied yourself as anything else? A painter perhaps, or a dancer?" asked Rosanna quite seriously, ignoring the snorting sounds from the Bucket family. Willy had turned crimson and was trying to slide out of sight under the table. "Maybe even acting – I know that someone with your physique would have been popular with the ladies." A deathly silence shrouded the table and Rosanna watched, fascinated as Dr Wonka's face turned from white through red and to a pale purple before turning back again to white through the reverse sequence of colours.

"Not really. I was the academic type and had little time for the arts."

"Pity," smiled Rosanna, sipping from her wine glass.

"Rosanna used to win prizes when she was still competing. She was very good," said Willy, trying desperately to lighten the mood.

"And these prizes were?" asked Dr Wonka.

"Ribbons and trophies," said Rosanna defensively, wishing fervently that Willy hadn't brought them up.

"My, my, ribbons _and _trophies. How wonderful."

"They represent my achievements in the field of horse-riding. The nature of the prize itself is irrelevant."

"And to think I have only my dentistry qualifications to hang on the wall."

"Each to their own."

"Quite."

"Could you two stop it please?" asked Willy in a small voice.

"I'm surprised they overlooked Father of the Year award 1980 though," snapped Rosanna, draining her wine glass. Dr Wonka's mouth dropped – she'd gone too far. Rosanna realised it was too late to retract the statement and waited for the inevitable outburst from Dr Wonka.

"How dare you presume to comment on my relationship with my son?"

"Why not? Everyone knows what you did to him!" shouted Rosanna, pointing to Willy.

"Leave me out of this…" whined Willy, crawling off the chair and moving to the sofa to curl up behind a cushion in self-defence.

"Have you even attempted to understand why? Or is that beyond your twisted, self-indulgent gypsy mind?" roared Dr Wonka.

"I am not a gypsy!"

"Carnie – apologies. A completely different caste, of course."

"You have no idea who or what I am so do not attempt to comment you vicious old bastard!"

"You are nothing – and certainly not what I would have hoped for as a partner for my son!"

"If you had had your way, Willy would be utterly miserable and stuck in a desk-job – so don't lecture me on what you think is right for your son."

"I know what is right for him!"

"Why? Because you're older? You're certainly not more intelligent."

"Are you going to allow her to speak to me like this, Willy?"

"Yes," said Willy from behind a pillow. Both Rosanna and Dr Wonka turned to face him.

"Pardon?" asked Dr Wonka.

"Willy?" asked Rosanna.

"It's not like either of you tried to stop the argument when I asked, so I might as well let it continue until one of you wins. Not that either of you can – it's clearly going to end in stalemate," said Willy calmly. "Which means we're still going to be arguing in the morning. It was such a nice dinner too." Rosanna and Dr Wonka looked back at each other with mutual hatred, however their shared love for Willy ended open hostilities. Rosanna decided her pride could take the dent better than Dr Wonka's and held out a hand.

"Truce?" she asked. Dr Wonka nodded and took her hand, shaking it briefly. "Sorry Willy," added Rosanna.

"I'm sorry son," said Dr Wonka. Willy's eyes glazed over and he started to shake a little. After a short while, sobs could be heard from behind the pillow. Rosanna and Dr Wonka both walked over to hug Willy, an awkward moment passing before Dr Wonka put an arm around Willy while Rosanna cuddled in to Willy's left arm.

"Why can't you two just get along?" sobbed Willy. Rosanna looked down, disappointed with herself. She hadn't meant to let it go this far. She looked over to Dr Wonka – from the expression on his face, he was thinking along similar lines.

"Willy – I think it would be best if I left. I'll call a taxi," said Rosanna, pulling out a mobile phone from her handbag.

"No – don't. You don't have to go," said Willy.

"I do," she replied. "We can see each other again tomorrow or the next day. But this evening is most definitely over and I think Mr and Mrs Bucket would like their house back now."

"I agree – I should be leaving also," said Dr Wonka, rising from the sofa. "My taxi will be here in a half-hour in any case. I shall wait for it at the gates. Goodnight, Willy." Dr Wonka strode out of the house without a further word.

"I'll call from outside," said Rosanna, standing up. Willy caught her hand and stopped her.

"No – I'll take you. I want to talk to you."

Back in the elevator, the mood was still quiet and awkward. Rosanna felt it her duty to break the silence, knowing that her behaviour was at least half the reason the evening had ended so badly.

"I'm sorry, Willy."

"It's okay," he replied, looking down at his hands.

"Please don't be angry."

"I'm not angry."

"Upset then?"

"Disappointed. I thought that you and Dad would make more of an effort."

"I'm sorry. I'll try really hard next time I see him – I promise."

"Really?"

"If it means that much to you, yes." Rosanna bridled a bit at a flash of memory. "Even if he did mock my ribbons and trophies."

"Thanks." Rosanna felt the tension in the elevator dissolve into thin air as the quiet moments passed and dared to walk over and put her arms around Willy. He hugged her back with one arm, kissing her hair gently. "I need you both you see – I can't choose between you and my father."

"I know – I shouldn't have tried to irritate him."

"You didn't try – you succeeded."

"Sorry."

"It's okay," said Willy, smiling down at Rosanna. "It really is – I'm sure that everything will be alright. Just call a truce – come with me next week when I go to visit him."

"If you insist."

"I do. Oh, we're here."

"Willy – I forgot – could you park around the corner in the alley again? The lady who owns the hotel is getting fed up – she says the elevator upsets the other customers."

"Okay."

Willy and Rosanna walked from the alley and around the corner into Wright's Way, arm in arm as was now usual and not at all awkward for them. The red-hand-gang was still gathered outside the boarded up building next to the hotel and pointed and jeered at Willy's hat as they walked past. A man in a dark jacket stole the occasional glance at Willy, obviously recognising the top hat and coat from a press photograph, but continued nervously sitting on a bollard, apparently waiting for a taxi. On the other side of the street, a young couple walked a pair of Scottish terriers.

"Well, goodnight," said Rosanna.

"Goodnight precious," whispered Willy, leaning over and kissing her forehead gently. The touch of his lips was so unexpected and so gentle that Rosanna almost cried out. She tilted her head back and smiled. "You were right," said Willy quietly.

"About what?"

"We're still together," he observed, raising Rosanna's chin with his right hand and kissing her. He backed off and touched the brim of his hat. "I'm going to have to go – I don't want the elevator falling into the wrong hands."

"Take care Willy," shouted Rosanna as Willy headed off up the street. She started up the steps to the hotel.

"And you!" Willy walked briskly to the end of the street, intent on getting back to the elevator as he'd forgotten to lock it. He was surprisingly alright about the argument between Rosanna and his father, having expected it since he'd realised his feelings for her. It had, however, left him bruised emotionally and exhausted physically. If he hadn't been so tired, he would have been humming as he walked up the street and would not therefore have been forced to listen to the oppressive silence around him. Perhaps he would be able to smooth things over between his father and Rosanna on the next visit. If so, it would certainly make maintaining his relationship with Rosanna easier. A little more hopeful now, Willy quickened his pace.

Just as he reached the corner of the street and was about to wave back to Rosanna should she still be outside the hotel, he heard a scream.


	17. In need of a dentist

Willy froze mid-step as the scream echoed up the street towards him, his breath stolen by terror. For one horribly selfish moment, he hoped that it was the young woman walking the Scottie dog that had shouted and that when he turned around Rosanna would be perfectly fine. As he turned however, this was clearly not the case. The young couple with the dogs were nowhere to be seen, having turned the corner at the far end of the street before the shriek had been uttered. Rosanna was sprawled on the pavement; one of the spotty youths crouched next to her. Two of the teenagers were running up the road towards Willy, running faster than one would have expected given their intoxicated state. The remaining two boys were heading off, equally quickly, in the opposite direction. Bracing himself for a fight and knowing that if the two youths running towards him intended him harm he was doomed, Willy strengthened his grip on his cane as the two teenagers drew level with him and stopped.

"Mate – your girl – he hit her and took her bag," said the first, his pale hair falling into his eyes.

"She's pretty messed up," added the second. Willy looked past the two boys to where Rosanna was still sitting on the ground, nursing her chin in her hand with the shortest boy kneeling next to her.

"Why did you do this?" whispered Willy.

"We didn't – the guy did. He's been hanging around the last few nights across in the park."

"Where is he now?"

"Matt and Naz have gone after him. He's not going to get far."

"Thanks," said Willy vaguely, rooted to the spot and staring at Rosanna in horror.

"Aren't you going to help her?" asked the first youth. Willy didn't respond and the two youths took an arm each to guide him forwards. When he reached Rosanna, Willy collapsed to his knees and touched her shoulder gently, causing her to turn around and look into his eyes.

The second thing that Willy noticed was the fact that Rosanna had started crying. The third was that she was shaking and trying to hide her lower jaw behind her hands. But the first, and it was an overwhelming first thing to notice, was the blood spilled over Rosanna's lips, chin and shirt front. It made him sick to his stomach to see it, but worse was the realisation that it was _his_ Rosanna that was bleeding and that if only he had hung around until after she'd gone into the hotel, she would have been unharmed. Automatically, he reached out and wiped some of the blood from Rosanna's cheek and drew his hand back to study the crimson liquid.

"Willy," said Rosanna in a choked voice, "It was the guy waiting for the taxi." She was lisping slightly through the blood and clutched at her lower lip as it was causing her considerable pain.

"They told me," answered Willy, transfixed by the blood on his glove. "What did he do to you?"

"I know he hit me, but I didn't really see anything." Rosanna coughed and leaned away from Willy to spit out a mouthful of blood. She reached inside her mouth and fiddled with one of her lower incisors while Willy retched at the sight.

"He came up behind her, pulled her 'round and smacked her in the face," said the smallest boy who was still kneeling next to Rosanna.

"That was more than a smack," muttered Willy.

"He punched her," said the first boy who had spoken to Willy. "When she went down, he grabbed her bag and ran."

"Willy – I hadn't cashed that cheque – you'll have to cancel it," moaned Rosanna through a fresh mouthful of blood.

"That is the least of my concerns." Willy reached over and pulled Rosanna into his chest, hugging her tightly.

"Willy don't – I'll mess up your clothes."

"I don't care," said Willy, cradling Rosanna and rocking her back and forth. "I won't let you be hurt, I won't. I'll make it better, I promise. I'll make the nasty hurt go away. I promise you won't be hurt again." With those words, Willy tensed and involuntarily slipped into a memory he'd always tried to forget.

Willy was tiny – no more than four years old. It would be a year or so until he would receive the accursed headgear and now as an infant he was free of the contraption and could race unencumbered around the large old house he lived in with his father. He'd been told off dozens of times for running on the stairs but the hyperactivity present in adulthood had already taken hold and Willy never listened to his father's instructions as regards running inside. On this day, it was sunny outside and Willy was running downstairs to go and play. He slipped on the second stair from the top and landed sideways a few steps later, half-rolling and half-falling all the way down the wooden staircase. He lay, stricken, unable to cry or move due to the shock. The clattering had brought his father running, who had shouted at him to find out what had happened before running out of the front door, a terrified look on his face.

_Willy could only think that his father had left him there to die and whimpered quietly in the empty house. He managed to sit up, but his arm was sore and when he leaned on it for support the pain caused him to cry out. He sat there, nursing the limb, for what seemed like hours. It could only have been a few minutes however – Dr Wonka returning with a doctor who lived a few doors away. The doctor had given him a check over and proclaimed that his arm was sprained – although not broken. Willy was carried upstairs by his father and put to bed._

_Later that night, unable to sleep because of the throbbing in his arm, Willy had got up and wandered quietly into his father's room. Dr Wonka was sitting in a chair at his desk, looking out of the window moodily. Willy toddled up and put a small hand on the dentist's knee, childish eyes looking up into the stern face as Dr Wonka turned to look at his son. Dr Wonka lifted Willy up onto his lap and Willy had whimpered softly with pain, only able to cry about what had happened to him now he was sat on his father's lap. The man's face had softened a little at Willy's whimper and the child was sure he'd seen a tear roll down his father's cheek. Dr Wonka wrapped his arms around his tiny son, drawing him into his chest and carefully avoiding the bruised and sprained arm. "I won't let you be hurt again Willy. I'll make the nasty hurt go away. I promise." Willy sobbed and hiccuped into his father's shoulder for an eternity, two huge strong arms protecting him from the outside world as he buried his face into a vast expanse of tweed jacket. _

"Papa…" whispered Willy, the memory of his tiny frame being held so easily by his father years ago fading as he squeezed Rosanna a little harder to bring himself back to reality faster. Her back was surprisingly muscular and felt hard when compared to the soft folds of his coat. He hadn't noticed before, perhaps because she hadn't been so tense the last time they touched. An uneasy hush descended on the group, only for it to be broken moments later by the noisy arrival of Matt and Naz.

"We lost him," said the dark-haired Naz, "but we got this back." He held up Rosanna's handbag victoriously before passing it down to Willy.

"We should probably report this to the police," said Willy.

"You really think they'll do anything?" scoffed Matt.

"No, Willy don't bother," mumbled Rosanna into Willy's chest. "I just want to go to sleep." She coughed again and Willy frowned when he saw that the flow of blood from her mouth wasn't slowing.

"You're not sleeping in there." Willy pointed at the hotel. "Let me see your lip," he insisted, pulling Rosanna's hands away from her face and looking inside her mouth. The bottom lip was split on the inside and two of her lower incisors were loose, the gums torn. "Errgh." Willy released Rosanna and stood up, offering a hand down to her. "We're going back to the factory." He helped Rosanna stand up and caught her as she nearly lost her balance. "Boys – will you be here most nights?"

"Yeah," said the first boy who seemed to be the unofficial leader of the group.

"What's your name?"

"John. John Dalton."

"I may drop by one night to talk to you and your friends, John."

"Yeah, okay."

"Thanks for helping," said Willy, turning his head to scan across the faces of the five boys. They were rough but – Willy realised – there was a difference between them and the type of person who would do this to Rosanna. He wouldn't have believed a gang of teenage boys capable of an act of compassion before tonight. "I will see you boys soon. Come on Rosanna." He slipped an arm under her shoulders and half-helped, half-dragged her up the road and around the corner.

Once inside the elevator, Rosanna sank down and sat awkwardly in one corner. Willy looked down at her for a few moments before programming their destination into the autopilot and hitting the thruster button. As the elevator glided off into the night, Willy crouched down and drew Rosanna into his chest, wrapping his arms around her protectively. Her face was paler than was usual and a bruise was starting to form on her chin underneath the sanguineous stains on her skin. Willy pulled Rosanna around until she was sitting on his lap and enveloped her with his body, wrapping himself spider-like around her and stroking her hair as he did so.

"We're going to get you fixed up," said Willy, "and then no-one is ever going to touch you again." He stared out of the side panel of the elevator at nothing in particular, fuming at himself and at the world in general for this state of affairs. After a few minutes he felt Rosanna start to shake and heard her sobbing quietly into his chest, the tears running into his waistcoat and dampening it. "Hush now, darling," said Willy, "everything's going to be okay." He brought his cheek down to her head and closed his eyes, silent tears flowing into her hair.

The elevator touched down onto the ground, the autopilot sensing that a soft landing was required. Willy uncurled and released Rosanna in order to open the doors for their exit. Rosanna sniffled and looked around, realising that they were not in the factory.

"Where are we?"

"The only place I'll find a dentist this time of night," said Willy, putting an arm around Rosanna and helping her to walk. They stumbled across a grassy field that was slippery from the autumn rains and headed towards a tall, lonely townhouse that looked quite out of place in the middle of the countryside. Up at the house, a taxi was just pulling away from the building and the parlour lights flickered on. Rosanna cuddled into Willy's chest as they walked, dreading the response they would receive from whoever Willy had brought her to see due to the lateness of the hour. As they walked up the front steps to the house, Rosanna read the brass plaque next to the door by the dim light from the parlour window. When she reached the line "Wilbur Wonka, D.D.S" she groaned and looked up at Willy appealingly.

"No – please – we'll go somewhere else."

"Don't be silly," said Willy harshly, ringing the doorbell. The pair of them listened carefully as heavy, irritated footsteps made their way to the door. A rattling of locks and the door was open, revealing a tired and obviously piqued Dr Wonka. "Dad – I need your help."

Dr Wonka flicked on the outside light and couldn't conceal his shock at the state on Rosanna and Willy. Rosanna's shirt was covered in blood, the same liquid congealing around her mouth. Willy's right cheek also bore some marks and, judging by the wet stain on his coat and waistcoat, Rosanna had lost a lot of blood. He fought the temptation to ask why they had come to him and instead concentrated on what he needed to do to help.

"What happened?" asked Dr Wonka, ushering in the pair of them.

"Rosanna was attacked. Her front teeth are loose – can you help Dad?"

"I will try – take her through." Dr Wonka watched as Willy supported Rosanna on her way into the dental surgery at the back of the building and shut the front door. He made a mental note of the fact that Rosanna had avoided his eyes and wondered if perhaps he should have refused to help given that she would be one of his more reluctant patients given their mutual dislike of each other. He shrugged the feeling off – he wasn't helping for Rosanna's sake but for Willy's.

Inside the surgical room, Willy helped Rosanna into the examining chair and stroked her hair out of her eyes as she lay back.

"This isn't a good idea," lisped Rosanna.

"I'll be right here," said Willy, immediately regretting the promise as it meant that he'd have to sit through the operation to fix her front teeth. He lifted her right hand and traced a pattern on the back of it with a single fingertip before looking back to Rosanna. "I won't let you out of my sight again." He lifted the hand to his mouth and kissed it gently. Dr Wonka entered the room and saw the sweet gesture, but said nothing. He walked over to the box of examining gloves and pulled out a fresh pair, snapping them on with frightening efficiency.

"Let's have a look," said Dr Wonka, leaning over Rosanna and opening her mouth gently. Rosanna winced at the pain of having someone touch her bruised chin and struggled involuntarily when Dr Wonka pulled her bottom lip out of the way to examine her teeth. "You've drunk alcohol tonight haven't you?" Rosanna nodded. "Then I cannot use anaesthetic. I could save the teeth, but it's going to hurt like hell. Do you wish me to continue?" Rosanna glanced sideways at Willy, who closed his eyes and looked down. She flicked her eyes back to meet Dr Wonka's face and nodded once. "Willy, are you staying or leaving?"

"Staying."

"If you feel faint or sick, please leave the room without disturbing either myself or Miss Derby."

"Daddy?" said Willy in a small voice.

"Yes?"

"Please make it better."

"Of course I will," said Dr Wonka, half-smiling at Willy then looking back at Rosanna. Willy dropped Rosanna's hand and pulled up a chair next to her head so that he could sit by her. "Shall we begin?"

An hour later, after many muffled expletives from both Rosanna and Dr Wonka, the operation was over. Dr Wonka had splinted the two loose teeth to the healthy incisors either side and fitted a temporary brace to the lower teeth. He'd also stitched the gash across Rosanna's lower lip and stopped the bleeding. Rosanna refused the mirror that he offered her to critique his work, knowing that with fresh bruising and a swollen lip she was not going to look her best.

"Bravely borne," said Dr Wonka. Willy, green with nausea from forcing himself to stay in the room, nodded.

"Yah," gagged Willy, trying his best to be comforting. "Well done."

"Thank you," rasped Rosanna, looking up at Dr Wonka, dizzy from shock and loss of blood. "How much do I owe you?" she added, trying to smile.

"Nothing," said Dr Wonka smiling broadly. "You get this one for free." He looked down at Rosanna's face, worried that her eyes were unfocused and that she was drifting off to sleep. "Willy, I don't think she should be moved again tonight. She can sleep in your old room." Willy looked a little confused, but by now Rosanna had no energy to do anything other than nod agreeably.

"I'll take her up." Willy guided Rosanna off the uncomfortable examining chair and supported her on his hip as he pulled her to standing. Dr Wonka noticed that Willy was struggling and took Rosanna's free arm to help her walk.

"I'm so sorry," mumbled Rosanna. Willy shook his head and tried to take more of Rosanna's weight in order to spare his father the effort.

"It's not your fault," said Willy, "Just try to help us – we're coming to the stairs."

The winding, Victorian staircase took almost ten minutes to climb as Rosanna was now so tired she could barely lift her feet. It was with some relief that Willy and his father deposited her on the bed and they both straightened up rubbing their backs. Willy looked around his old room while Dr Wonka helped Rosanna to lie down and make herself comfortable. Dr Wonka had redecorated the room since Willy had left home and it was now a bland cream colour with nothing to show it had ever been a young boy's room. The single bed was tucked into a corner, the right side and end of the bed open to the room and Willy's old wardrobe and chest of drawers were on the opposite wall.

"Where's all my stuff?" asked Willy.

"It's in the attic. I didn't throw anything so you are quite welcome to go through it tomorrow if you like," replied Dr Wonka. "I'm just going to get some painkillers for Miss Derby – I will be back in a moment." He walked quietly out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

"Willy, could you come here please?" asked Rosanna quietly. Willy walked over and sat on the bed next to Rosanna.

"Yes darling?"

"I don't feel so good."

"You'll be better in the morning."

"It hurts."

"Dad has gone to get some painkillers."

"Tell him thanks."

"I will," said Willy, stroking Rosanna's hair. He had to agree that she looked awfully sick and despite Dr Wonka's best efforts to clean her up in the dentist's chair, she was still a little unkempt. He didn't care right now however and smiled down at her, following the curves of her face with his eyes. Rosanna reached up and stroked his face with her right hand. Willy lay his own hand on top of hers, sighing as he kissed her wrist and cuddled into her mini-embrace. At that moment, Dr Wonka reappeared at the door and coughed politely to announce his presence, walking in and handing Willy a glass of water and two ibuprofen pills without a word. As he turned to leave, Rosanna tried to sit up and call him back.

"Dr Wonka?" she managed before slipping back onto the pillows. He returned and leaned over to talk to her.

"Yes?"

"Thank you so much. You didn't have to do this. I could have gone back to the hotel."

"Nonsense, now try to get some sleep," he instructed, straightening up and walking to the door. "Willy – I'd like to see you downstairs in five minutes."

"But Rosanna might…"

"Miss Derby needs her rest," insisted Dr Wonka. "Don't forget the painkillers."

"I won't…" grumbled Willy, putting the glass down on the bedside table together with one of the pills. As Dr Wonka left, Willy leaned over and slipped an arm under Rosanna to lift her up to take the painkiller.

"Are these okay to take after alcohol?" asked Rosanna.

"Yeah – it's paracetamol you need to avoid. And aspirin after an injury." He gave her the first tablet and helped her to hold the glass to take a drink of water. "Does that hurt?" he asked as Rosanna winced on sipping the water.

"Not too much – it's not cold." Willy administered the second painkiller in the same way and then helped Rosanna to settle back on the bed.

"Try to sleep."

"I will. Where will you be?"

"On the sofa, downstairs probably."

"Not going back to the factory?"

"No."

"Good," said Rosanna, closing her eyes and sighing sleepily. "Goodnight Willy."

"Goodnight darling." Willy stood and turned off the light, taking a last glance at Rosanna before closing the door and heading off downstairs to speak to his father. Dr Wonka was waiting for Willy in the parlour and handed him a glass of brandy as he entered.

"Drink this," said Dr Wonka firmly.

"Ew, no."

"It will help your nerves. Anyone can see that they're shot." He drained his own glass and refilled it. Willy hesitated a moment before quickly downing the drink and gasping in horror at the taste.

"Ack, green caterpillars," complained Willy. Dr Wonka grinned and sat down in a chair next to the fire, motioning to the opposite chair for Willy to sit down.

"What happened?" Willy repeated as much as he knew of the attack on Rosanna and sank back into the armchair.

"I need to go to the police don't I?" said Willy, rubbing his eyes wearily.

"Yes," said Dr Wonka. "I can call them to come around here in the morning if you like."

"Okay. Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for helping her."

"My pleasure. You seem very attached given that you barely know her."

"She's very kind to me. I can't imagine being without her." They sat quietly for the next half hour, chatting occasionally about inconsequential things. "It's all my fault," said Willy. "I could have stopped it from happening." Willy looked blearily into the fire and tuned out for a moment, alone with his thoughts. He held out his brandy glass and Dr Wonka refilled it wordlessly. Willy brought the glass into his chest and held it in both hands between laced fingers. "Is this how you felt about Mum?" asked Willy quietly.

"Yes it is," replied Dr Wonka in a flat tone.

"I'm sorry, I never really understood how you felt about her death until tonight. When I saw Rosanna on the ground I thought that…" Willy stopped himself and shook his head to clear the memory of what he'd thought. It wasn't real – Rosanna hadn't been killed, she was alive and recovering upstairs and would probably have a lousy headache in the morning. It made no sense to dwell on a depressing fantasy. Still, that didn't stop the tears from falling. Dr Wonka crossed over to Willy and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I know what you thought." Willy reached up and touched his father's hand, gripping it in his own as he drained his second glass of brandy. The taste wasn't quite so repulsive this time, merely awful.

"I need to go out."

"Not after two brandies you don't. You're not used to it."

"But I need a change of clothing and Rosanna's stuff needs to be collected from the hotel! I'm going Dad. There's nothing else I can do to help. I'll be back before morning." Willy pushed his father away and stood up unsteadily. He staggered over to where Rosanna's keys had been left on the side, hugging them for a second before storming out of the room and house. Dr Wonka watched him go and sighed. There was nothing he could do to stop Willy – he knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. The elevator roared into the air and he could only hope that the brandy wouldn't affect Willy's driving ability too badly.

"I suppose I'd better call the factory and warn the Buckets," said Dr Wonka to the empty parlour. He crossed over to the telephone and dialled the number.

Willy leaned against the glass wall and let his rage at the night's events surface, swearing almost continuously under his breath as the elevator approached Wright's Way. Despite the hotelier's warning, he parked right in front of the hotel and burst out of the elevator, not caring if the other guests were disturbed one jot. He raced up the steps in front of the hotel and, as he was about to try the keys, the door burst open and revealed a stumpy blonde woman glaring at him.

"Get that thing away from my hotel!"

"Madam, get out of my way."

"You're not coming in here."

"Which room has Rosanna Derby booked?"

"That's none of your business," snapped the hotelier. "What are you doing here in that state?" she pointed to the dirt and blood on Willy's coat and sniffed the air. "Drunk as well."

"Look, you foul…"

"Get away from my hotel or I'm calling the police!" The woman's voice rose. "I mean it!" Willy took a step back and held his hands up apologetically.

"Madam, Rosanna Derby has expressed a desire not to return to this hotel as she was attacked outside it earlier this evening. I am here to collect her things and settle her bill. If you assist me, I will pay you twice her room charge." Willy stared at the hotelier as the woman balanced her options. On the one hand, she'd be helping an intoxicated stranger to empty a guest's room. On the other, she was going to make a considerable profit on the night. She decided to help Willy – her moral justification coming from the fact that Rosanna had clearly given over her keys to this lunatic so must have known about the arrangement.

"This way sir," said the hotelier. "Do call me Sheila, not madam."

"If you insist," said Willy, pushing past her and heading for the stairs.

"Room 3 – first floor," called Sheila.

The hotel room was every bit as horrible as Willy had imagined – from the faded orange curtains to the rusting mirror on the wall. He pulled out Rosanna's rotten rucksack and a suitcase from under the bed and opened both to begin packing her things. There was surprisingly little in the room – most of her personal possessions were still in the bottom of the suitcase, as if she knew she wouldn't be staying at the grotty hotel very long.

"Do you want some help?" asked Sheila, hovering in the background and trying to peer inside Rosanna's suitcase.

"No. I will pack her things myself, thank you."

"A friend of yours is she?"

"Yes. I shall see you downstairs to settle the bill." Willy stared at Sheila until she left and crossed to lock the door so she couldn't re-enter. There was something about the woman that made him uneasy and he didn't want her anywhere near Rosanna's things. Willy emptied the wardrobe first, folding the contents neatly on top of the ribbons in the suitcase, mentally noting that Rosanna had very few clothes and that he needed to take her on a shopping spree. Next he tackled the bedside table and then he headed to the dressing table and pulled open the top drawer. He plunged his hand in and pulled out what on first inspection appeared to be a scrap of white lace. Willy frowned and turned the lace over and over in his hands, trying to figure out what it was that he was holding – he'd thought at first it might be a handkerchief, but it was far too small for that. A flip of the item revealed it to be a very skimpy lace thong.

Three thoughts fought for attention. One was that the thong was very unlikely to cover very much. The second was that he was handling Rosanna's underwear certainly out of necessity but not necessarily with her permission. Thirdly, the closest he'd come to any woman's underwear before today had been in a department store way back when he still bought his own clothes. Not that he'd been in the habit of buying women's underwear, but he had walked past the aisles while averting his eyes. He dropped the thong like a hot coal and swallowed nervously before glancing down to the drawer. An array of white, black, and pink lace met his eyes, together with a jumble of bra straps of all colours and ugly, bulky socks. He hesitated a little before turning his face away and grabbing handfuls of the underwear, stuffing it into the rucksack without looking at it again. He risked a glance to ensure that the drawer was empty and breathed a sigh of relief when it was. He pulled open the second drawer more cautiously, but without reason as it contained only two, harmless, t-shirts. Willy placed them into the suitcase and did one final check around the room to ensure everything had been cleared. He found his letter to Rosanna tucked next to the bedside lamp and smiled, pocketing the letter for safekeeping. With a final disgusted look at the room, Willy threw the rucksack over his shoulder and picked up the suitcase to head downstairs and leave the grungy hotel.

After paying more than four times what the room was worth in his opinion, Willy breathed the cleaner air of the street outside the hotel and walked back to the elevator. The gang of boys had left – evidently to go home and sleep off the incident. Willy wished that he had shown more gratitude when the boys had run to fetch him instead of instantly suspecting them of having caused the problem. He reached the elevator in no time at all and set the factory as his next destination.

Back at Dr Wonka's home, the dentist was still pacing around his parlour. He'd asked Mr Bucket to call him when Willy arrived and to try and convince the chocolatier to sleep over at the factory before piloting back to Rosanna's side. So absorbed was he in thinking about Willy that he didn't hear Rosanna entering the room until after she'd knocked over a vase by the door.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" cried Rosanna, bending to pick up the pieces of the vase.

"I'll do it – why are you out of bed?"

"I thought maybe I could talk to Willy – I couldn't sleep."

"He's gone out to pick up your things. Leave that," he crossed over to Rosanna and crouched down as best he could to help her.

"When did he leave?"

"About two hours ago. He's going to your hotel and the factory and hopefully Michael will convince him to spend the night there instead of his dashing back here."

"Oh," said Rosanna despondently. "I'm sorry about earlier," she mumbled. "I was out of line." She dropped the pieces of vase into the waste paper bin next to her. "That's probably why this happened – bad karma."

"You didn't deserve that," said Dr Wonka, nodding to indicate Rosanna's injured jaw. "I'm sorry that I misjudged you – I suppose prejudices die hard."

"I don't suppose, for Willy's sake, we could try to get along?" asked Rosanna. She stood up a little shakily and helped Dr Wonka to his feet.

"I think that would be sensible, given our attachment to him. I'd hate to cause him any more pain." Rosanna nodded in agreement and held out her hand.

"Peace?"

"Peace," replied Dr Wonka, taking her hand. "However, if you ever hurt him I swear that I will not rest until I have found you and made you pay."

"Likewise," said Rosanna. The two factions stared seriously at each other for a moment then smiled, open and covert hostilities alike cancelled due to their new alliance. "Could I sit down here for a while? I'm not up to walking back upstairs just yet."

"Of course." Dr Wonka sat in his usual armchair and relaxed back. Almost immediately, the telephone rang. Dr Wonka sprang forward and picked it up. "Hello? Ah Michael – oh, he is. We'll expect him shortly then. Thank you… Yes Rosanna is fine. No problem. Goodbye." Dr Wonka replaced the handset and looked over to Rosanna. "Willy's on his way here – he will arrive shortly."

Twenty minutes later, Willy shuffled inside his black velvet coat and fiddled with his cane. The elevator was a little cramped with Rosanna's luggage and an overnight bag for Willy himself that Mrs Bucket had thoughtfully packed for him "just in case he wanted to stay at his father's." He smiled at her kind gesture – she had saved him valuable minutes on the return journey. With only the briefest of instructions to the Oompa-Loompas to keep things ticking along until his return, Willy had left the factory for the first time in years with the intention of staying elsewhere overnight and perhaps for longer. The idea didn't settle with him, but he knew that he was doing this for Rosanna's sake and not his own so braved the uneasy feeling in order to be with her. After the elevator had landed, he struggled to make his way out and up to the front door with the three bags, but managed it without too many rest stops. He decided to ask Mrs Bucket why she thought packing bricks was amusing, given the weight of his overnight bag. Before he reached the door, Dr Wonka opened it.

"Let me take that," said Dr Wonka, reaching for the overnight bag and lifting it with apparent ease before depositing it in the hall. Willy put down the suitcase and rucksack next to it and gave his father an exhausted smile.

"Is she asleep?" he asked, pushing a still-wet strand of hair out of his eyes.

"No – she's downstairs. Waiting for you," said Dr Wonka, a smile playing on his lips. "If you don't mind, I'm going to bed. Make sure she gets some rest." He looked meaningfully at Willy and walked up the stairs.

"Rosanna?" called Willy, heading into the parlour where Rosanna was curled up on the sofa, watching the door carefully for his return. "What are you doing down here?"

"I couldn't sleep," replied Rosanna with a shrug. "I came down looking for you, but ended up chatting to your father."

"Sorry about that," said Willy, removing his coat and laying it over the back of the sofa before sitting down next to Rosanna.

"Don't be sorry – it was rather nice really. I think we might actually be able to get on with each other one day," she finished, leaning over and resting on Willy's chest. Willy draped his left arm over her lazily and put his head back against the sofa.

"I am so tired…" moaned Willy. Rosanna slipped her arms around Willy's waist, which looked surprisingly thin without his coat on, and snuggled her head onto his shoulder comfortably. "And I'm not a pillow," he grumbled.

"You are now," said Rosanna, playing with the brooch at his neck. "Thanks for helping me."

"Don't mention it," Willy replied, eyes closing.

"Willy?"

"Mmm?"

"I'm glad you're back."

"Hmm. Me too," grumbled Willy, drifting off to sleep. "Turn the light off, it's too bright."

"Okay." Rosanna shuffled sideways and over to the table lamp, clicking it off. The room was plunged into dusk – the only light coming from the fireplace. She took her place next to Willy and hugged him again, Willy returning the embrace feebly.

"That's a lot better… Dad said to make sure you got some rest. You should really be going upstairs."

"I know."

"Good."

"I'll go up soon."

"Mmm-hmm. 'Kay."

Dr Wonka yawned as he walked downstairs the next morning, not used to having to perform surgery late at night. He rubbed his neck at the bottom of the stairs and started making his way to the kitchen, passing the parlour as he did so. He was surprised to find the parlour door open and walked in to check on Willy. He did not expect to find Willy and Rosanna curled up together on the sofa, Willy reclining against one end and Rosanna resting on his chest. Dr Wonka gave an ironic smile and headed out to the kitchen to make breakfast, rapping on the door as he left to wake up the slumbering lovebirds.

"Mwa – what's? I didn't do it…" mumbled Willy. "Wasn't me…"

"Pardon?" said Rosanna, firing on all cylinders almost from the moment she woke up.

"Huh?" Willy looked down his chest at Rosanna and blinked as memory slowly filtered into his conscious mind. "Oh dear," he added, looking out of the parlour door. "I wonder if he's up yet." A clink of china from the kitchen answered his question.

"Oops," giggled Rosanna, quickly followed by, "ow, my chin hurts."

"You can have some more painkillers with breakfast."

"I'd like a shower and a change of clothes first."

"Fine – your suitcase is in the hall. I'll take it upstairs for you." They unfolded from the sofa and stood facing each other for a few moments before Willy led the way out.

Ten minutes later, morning breath dispelled and his hair combed, Willy entered the kitchen a little sheepishly. His father was dishing up a cooked breakfast, a generous pile of toast already on the table. The coffee machine gurgled in the corner, a fresh pot ready for the three of them.

"Good morning Willy – sleep well?" asked Dr Wonka with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeah." Willy didn't rise to the bait, sat down at the table and played with his cutlery. "Rosanna's in the shower – she said she wouldn't be long. She could smell the bacon."

"Oh good – then it won't get cold," said Dr Wonka, placing the plates onto the table. He sat next to Willy and helped himself to a slice of toast, humming disconcertingly as he buttered it. Willy grew more and more nervous, picking at his breakfast until he couldn't take the humming any longer.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Did you see us on the sofa?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry – I'm so sorry. We just fell asleep – it won't happen again."

"I hope for your sake it does," said Dr Wonka. "I don't mind, Willy. In any case, it is none of my business."

"Nothing happened."

"I guessed that from the state of Rosanna, but again, it's none of my concern."

"So you don't want me to split up with her anymore?"

"No. She seems very sensible and rather lovely."

"She said you had a chat last night. Was it a nice chat?"

"Yes, it cleared the air."

"Was I mentioned?"

"A few times," said Rosanna, appearing from the hall. "Didn't mean to interrupt," she said by way of apology and good morning to Dr Wonka.

"Take a seat," replied Dr Wonka. He exchanged a polite smile with Rosanna. "How's the jaw?"

"Painful. When can I have some more painkillers?" Dr Wonka stood and turned to the counter behind him, reaching for a bottle of pills. He tossed them to Rosanna.

"Two, three to four times a day, with food. I'll write you a prescription later for some more."

"Thanks," said Rosanna, cracking off the lid of the bottle and pulling out two pills, swallowing them quickly without water.

"With food," scolded Dr Wonka. Rosanna tore a piece of toast and popped it into her mouth to avoid biting it with her front teeth. Dr Wonka looked at her sympathetically. "They'll take the swelling down as well."

"Thanks Dr Wonka." Rosanna looked across to Willy. "Why have you brought all my stuff here?"

"You're not going back to that hotel. When you're well enough to travel, you can come back to the factory with me or I'll help you find somewhere else close by," answered Willy.

"Thanks."

"I'm sure you'll find the factory more suited to your recovery than this place," said Dr Wonka, gesturing around the kitchen.

"It's very nice here," protested Rosanna. Willy took a draught of coffee as he watched Rosanna tearing up tiny pieces of her breakfast in order to eat it without suffering unnecessary pain.

"I've called the police Willy – they said they'd send someone around this morning," said Dr Wonka.

"There was really no need – they won't do anything. The creep will get 3 months community service at best," said Rosanna. "I'd rather just let the matter drop."

"What if he does this – or worse – to someone else?" pointed out Willy. "At least we can do our civic duty and try to avoid this happening to anyone else."

"If you insist," Rosanna sighed. "How long do I have to wear this brace for?"

"A month, maybe longer, depending on how quickly the gums heal," answered Dr Wonka.

"Great. There goes Christmas," mumbled Rosanna.

"At least New Year's isn't doomed," replied Willy. A comfortable, familial silence fell over the table as the three of them set to eating breakfast.

The remainder of the day passed in a blur for Rosanna – the interview with the police had taken hours and she'd had to go down to the local station to piece together a photo-fit for their files. They travelled to and from the station by taxi rather than elevator and kept thanking first Willy and then Dr Wonka for taking over the running of her life while she coped with the attack. The police assured her that they would do all they could, which pleased Willy more than it did her. She would have happily let the matter drop, but Willy's in-built belief in justice refused to let the man who attacked her get away with it. By evening, Rosanna was exhausted again and found herself drifting off on the sofa as she listened to Dr Wonka and Willy chatting in the parlour, both of the Wonka men enthroned on armchairs. Dr Wonka of course was sitting primly, his hands gripping the arms of the armchair. Willy on the other hand was draped over the armchair, legs over one arm and head and shoulders hanging over the other. He wasn't wearing his coat or top hat and he looked extraordinarily relaxed given he was in his father's presence. Rosanna tuned out as she watched Willy run a hand through his hair, transfixed by the flow of the silken locks through his gloves.

"I think that would be best," said Dr Wonka. "What do you think Miss Derby?" he asked.

"About what?" she yawned in response. "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening."

"Dad suggested that we go back to the factory on Monday after you've had another day's rest," said Willy. "What do you think?"

"That would be fine," said Rosanna, scrunching her shoulders and yawning again.

"Come on you, time for bed," said Willy, walking over to her and offering an arm.

"It's only eight o'clock!"

"And by nine you'll be unconscious. Come on pest," he insisted, pulling Rosanna to her feet.

"G'night Dr Wonka," said Rosanna, allowing Willy to lead her out of the room.

"Goodnight Rosanna," replied Dr Wonka, picking up his newspaper and pretending he wasn't interested in the relationship between Rosanna and his son. Willy led Rosanna up the stairs and into his old room, closing the door behind them.

"I've waited all day to do this," said Willy, hugging her tightly to his chest. "There just hasn't been any time."

"I know." Rosanna pulled herself closer to Willy and reached up a hand to play with his hair. Willy leaned over to kiss her, but Rosanna shied away. "My teeth," she explained.

"I promise it won't hurt," whispered Willy, kissing her right cheek before passing his lips over hers, barely grazing her lips before nuzzling into her left cheek, exhaling hot breath across her neck as he did so. Rosanna shuddered – there was something scarily sexual about the teasing almost-kiss. "How was that?"

"You have no idea," groaned Rosanna.

"Well then, good night," said Willy, backing out of the room with a half-bow, his eyes sparkling. Rosanna watched the door close and exhaled shakily – without even intending to, he'd wound her up to the point of distraction and sleeping would be difficult tonight. She pulled herself together and got changed for bed, hoping her mouth would heal quickly so that she could return the favour of the almost-kiss – with any luck, with similar results. She grinned and curled up under the covers, looking forward to the weeks and months of discovery ahead.


	18. Admitting the impossible

**How shall I put this? Not one for the kiddies from now on – note the fic's rating. Enjoy…**

* * *

A month had passed since Rosanna's return to the chocolate factory. The guestroom she'd occupied on the last occasion she had visited had been set aside as her own room, Willy insisting that she unpack all her belongings to make herself at home. Needless to say, Rosanna and Willy had spent a considerable amount of time together while Willy wasn't working – unfortunately to the detriment of the time he was able to spend with Charlie and his family. The Christmas rush was also starting, forcing Willy to spend at least ten hours a day either in the Inventing Room or supervising production in the other parts of the factory. The delivery trucks had started increasing the number of deliveries per day, which would eventually lead to each truck making three trips per day by Christmas. Willy was calmer than Rosanna would have expected – he was obviously used to the holiday rush and she was impressed that he could organise a quadruple increase in productivity with very little stress for either himself or the Oompa-Loompas. As she entered his office on the Saturday evening however, Rosanna was determined to take his mind off work and hid the bottle and wineglasses behind her back while opening the door.

"Knock-knock," said Rosanna brightly.

"It is six o'clock already?" asked Willy, looking up from a pile of orders and pinching the bridge of his nose to clear his vision. "My, how time flies when you're having f… actually, this isn't." He waved a stack of papers at Rosanna.

"It's seven thirty. We brought you up some dinner," said Rosanna, gesturing to the two Oompa-Loompas carrying trays behind her. Willy looked down at the multitude of tasks still to complete and was about to protest that he couldn't be interrupted at this precise moment in time, when his stomach growled at him.

"Thanks," said Willy, smiling up at Rosanna and pushing the papers to one side. "Sit down," he continued, gesturing at the chair on the opposite side of the desk. Rosanna put the wineglasses and bottle down on the desk and sat down, whereupon she pulled a corkscrew out of her pocket and proceeded to open the wine.

"It's spaghetti tonight," said Rosanna as the trays were laid upon the desk by the two Oompa-Loompas who quickly retreated out of the room having completed their waiter service, closing the door behind them.

"Fabulous." Willy yawned behind a hand and regarded the red wine Rosanna was pouring into his glass. "What's the occasion?"

"We've been together over a month. Does there need to be any other reason?" she smiled across the desk to him and poured her own drink. Willy set to eating his dinner, not caring to speak for five minutes as he wolfed his food. Rosanna watched him for a while, fighting the urge to reprimand him for eating so quickly, as she knew he'd skipped lunch. Eventually, Willy slowed down and Rosanna decided it was time to be sociable. "What would you like to do later?"

"I have to finish this…" said Willy, passing a hand over the paperwork to his right.

"I'll help you with it tomorrow – it's not like I have anything else to do."

"Are you getting bored wandering around the factory all day?" asked Willy, worriedly.

"Not at all – but I'd rather you were with me. It's no fun on my own. I'll help you – it's far too late at night for you to be working."

"But it won't take more than a few days to clear all this and then…"

"No buts. Now, what would you like to do?"

"I'm quite tired actually. We could watch a movie in my room. Or yours," added Willy quickly, remembering something.

"Yours," said Rosanna, curious to find out what Willy's room looked like.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"If you insist…" said Willy, sipping at his wine nervously.

An hour later, both slightly inebriated, Willy and Rosanna walked through the door into Willy's room wrapped around each other's waists. Rosanna looked around at the dark purple and red surroundings and smiled, the four-poster bed drawing her attention and suggesting all kinds of possibilities.

"Very you," she said, gesturing expansively at the room. "But you seem to have brought me here under false pretences – where's the television?" She giggled and put her arms around Willy's waist. "Mr Wonka, if I didn't know better I'd think you were up to something "icky" my dear boy."

"Rosanna – don't be gross," answered Willy with a sigh, uncoupling himself before heading over to the bed and flicking a switch on the end to raise the television for viewing. It took Rosanna a few seconds to realise where they would have to sit and she grinned broadly as the implications of this dawned on her. "What would you like to watch?" asked Willy, walking over to the bookshelf and starting to look through his collection. Rosanna joined him and rummaged through, finally sighing and pulling out 'Moulin Rouge.'

"I didn't know you were the corset type," she giggled.

"Do you really want to watch that?" asked Willy, sincerely wishing he'd thought to hide that particular disc together with all the other romances. Rosanna was clearly in an odd mood thanks to the Rioja and would be unlikely to appreciate Baz Luhrman's directing skills.

"Yes."

"Fine," said Willy, turning on the DVD player and inserting the disc. As the disc loaded, Rosanna ran over and jumped onto his bed, making herself comfortable. "Rosanna?"

"Yes?"

"Shoes off, please." He kicked off his boots and sat awkwardly on the side of the bed, not yet comfortable with the idea of sitting next to her on anything other than a sofa. Rosanna sighed and pulled off her flats, throwing them to the floor with little grace before patting the bed next to her.

"There's plenty of room." Willy shuffled onto the bed and raised his legs slowly onto it, lying down hesitantly next to Rosanna. "What's the matter?"

"This is a little too weird for me – that's all. I shouldn't have suggested my room."

"We could go to mine if you like," said Rosanna, ignoring the opening credits of the film.

"You'd do that?" asked Willy, looking over at her incredulously.

"Yes, if it would make you more comfortable."

"Don't worry," said Willy, turning to watch the movie with a small smile, reassured by the fact he knew he could trust Rosanna to back off if he got too nervous. "Just don't get any ideas," he drawled.

"Don't flatter yourself," sighed Rosanna, slightly disappointed but not to the point of allowing him to know how she felt. She caught Willy's offended glance in her direction and grinned to herself.

By the end of the movie, Rosanna had managed to curl up next to Willy and rest her head on his chest, his left arm mysteriously finding its way onto her back about an hour into the film. She heard him sniffle and looked up with a small smile.

"Do you always cry at sad endings?"

"Yes," answered Willy. "Every time."

"Aw, bless," giggled Rosanna. Willy pulled a face at her and slipped off the bed to turn the DVD player off.

"Just 'cause I'm in touch with my emotions," said Willy, drying his eyes on a handkerchief. He flopped back onto the bed and lay staring at Rosanna, resting his head on his arm, before continuing. "How's the lip?"

"Fine," said Rosanna.

"Good." Willy leaned over and kissed her quickly, barely touching her lips before moving back. "I think you're a bad influence on me – Dad was right."

"What do you mean?" teased Rosanna, moving closer and running a hand up his side. Willy shivered at her touch and closed his eyes briefly as he smiled, encouraging Rosanna to continue. She slipped her hand between his coat and waistcoat and played with his waist, tickling Willy's ribs out of sheer devilment.

"Ah – don't do that!" cried Willy, squirming out of her reach while giggling hysterically. "Stop! Please!"

"In what way am I a bad influence?" pouted Rosanna.

"Look at us – we're already fooling around on my bed." Willy reached up and pulled Rosanna down into his chest, kissing her hair.

"No, this is fooling around," said Rosanna in a husky tone, rising up to straddle Willy. His mouth dropped open and he found himself pinned to the duvet with terror, although part of his psyche enjoyed the thrill of being under Rosanna's control. For a nanosecond, he considered allowing her to continue with whatever she had planned, but put this weakness down to the alcoholic haze through which he was viewing the situation and shook his head forcibly.

"Rosanna," said Willy hoarsely, closing his eyes as she shifted her weight, "I would very much appreciate it if you – oof!" he was cut off by a pillow to the head. "That hurt!" he shouted, pushing her off and grabbing a pillow of his own, effectively declaring war.

* * *

"That was fun," panted Rosanna. "We should fight more often."

"Only with pillows. Anything else is inevitably messy," said Willy, flopping back exhausted on the bed. "Can you find your own way back to your room?"

"Yes."

"Then would you mind going to bed? I need to do those invoices in the morning and it's nearly midnight."

"No problem." Rosanna stood up and offered her hand to Willy, pulling him to his feet. "Goodnight sweetheart."

"Goodnight darling," said Willy, kissing Rosanna lightly as she wrapped her arms around him. A few moments passed. "You have to stop hugging me if you want to walk to the door you know."

"What if I don't?"

"Then I'm going to have to call the security guards to remove you," replied Willy, with a glint in his eyes.

"You wouldn't?"

"Goodnight, Rosanna," said Willy in an unarguably final tone.

"Sweet dreams," said Rosanna brightly, lifting her head and kissing Willy's lips lightly. She lingered longer than she had intended, moaning slightly as Willy tried to pull away and reaching a hand to the back of his head to hold him in place. Totally distracted and her usual control lost to the wine, Rosanna attempted to deepen the kiss. Willy clamped his teeth together in horror and struggled to break free, the action bringing Rosanna back to reality. She opened her eyes in shock and backed away, her hand raised to her mouth.

"Rosanna," said Willy in a hurt tone, "why did you do that?"

"Willy, I'm so sorry – I didn't mean to."

"Goodnight Rosanna," squeaked Willy.

"I'm sorry."

"Goodnight," said Willy firmly. Rosanna suppressed a sob and ran from the room, heading down the corridor with tears streaming down her face.

"It was too soon, too soon…" cried Rosanna, throwing her door open and slamming it behind her. "All that hard work – ruined!" she sank into a little heap on the floor and sobbed into her arms. Over the last month she'd patiently worked on Willy's confidence until he was comfortable with kissing and embracing her. And now, thanks to a few too many glasses of red wine, he couldn't stand to be in the same room as her. She wouldn't be surprised if he asked her to leave in the morning. "Stupid, stupid…" she scolded, hitting the floor with her fists.

Back in his bedroom, Willy braced his hands against the window frame and rested his head against the cold glass. A deep frown crossed his brow as he remembered the way Rosanna's mouth had moved on his and the way her tongue had flicked across his lips. He trembled, not entirely sure how he felt. On the one hand, the idea of someone else's tongue anywhere near his was gross, what with the number of bacteria and other nasties everyone's mouth (including his own, though he tried his best with antiseptic mouthwash) harboured. On the other, Rosanna obviously enjoyed that type of kissing and there was probably a very good reason why if he could only get up the courage to ask her or find out for himself. Purely experimentally, he pulled off one glove and gave the back of his hand a lingering kiss. He shrugged – there was very little to recommend the experience and he couldn't fathom why Rosanna had been so tempted to try it on him. He licked his lips and pulled a face at the taste of latex, wandering off to the bathroom to clean his teeth without another thought about kissing.

Rosanna rose late the next morning, feeling awful. She had cried herself to sleep and, when fatigue had finally claimed her, had slept fitfully and woken up every few hours. Sitting up miserably, she played the scene with Willy through her mind again and again, wondering what had possessed her to try and force him to kiss _like that_. Glancing at the clock, she realised it was nearly eleven and that her promise to Willy to help with the invoices had been broken. She showered and changed quickly and headed to the office to help with what was left of the paperwork.

Willy looked up as Rosanna entered the room, a stack of papers in each hand. He smiled softly; always pleased to see her but more so this morning as there was something he felt that he had to tell her. During his shower the night before he'd thought about his feelings towards Rosanna and how they had changed over the last month. He had seen how upset she had been when he had dismissed her from the room and wished that he'd been slightly more tactful. Her clumsy attempt at kissing him had not been totally disgusting and he supposed that, with time, he might even get used to the idea of it. Willy trusted Rosanna absolutely and he could accept now that the idea of kissing her more deeply was no longer abhorrent to him. He considered that his reaction last night had been only natural, something that was undoubtedly the result of her surprising him instead of simply asking for a kiss like any polite person would do. If it would cheer her up to kiss him like that, he'd endure it – it wasn't as if he had very much choice in the matter if she was so desperate to do so she was prepared to pounce after only the smallest amount of wine. As Rosanna walked slowly towards him, Willy stood and circled the desk to meet her, sweeping her into an embrace as they met.

"Good afternoon," quipped Willy. "The invoices are completed – I'm ahead of schedule."

"That's nice," said Rosanna quietly. "I'm sorry about last night."

"Why?" Willy smiled and stroked Rosanna's hair gently. "I rather enjoyed the movie."

"Not the movie, the kiss. I know you didn't like it."

"On the contrary, I found nothing to dislike," said Willy, pulling Rosanna to him as he spoke. "I cannot understand your fascination with kissing me like that but I suppose if you're going to get upset about it I have no choice in the matter…" Rosanna looked up at Willy, her eyes wide and her mouth gaping. "Don't stare like that, it's most unattractive. Especially when you're about to kiss me. Most off-putting."

"You mean – you'd like me to?"

"No, I wouldn't like you to, but I want you to, otherwise how am I to get used to the process?"

"It's okay – it was just the wine last night."

"So, we have a choice. Either you give up wine and we never take this relationship any further or…"

"Or?" asked Rosanna, heart hammering. Willy's limited patience gave out – he wasn't particularly looking forward to this and Rosanna, in his opinion, was being unnecessarily obtrusive.

"Kiss me. Right now, like you want to," said Willy, his mind screaming for him to stop.

"Are you sure?" asked Rosanna. "You won't ask me to leave the room again?"

"No. Now how do I do this?" he asked, pulling her closer. "I'm afraid you're going to have to teach me how to do more than just swim…" He leaned his head forward and parted his lips a little, a sneer briefly passing over his face before he checked it.

"Take a breath and follow my lead," replied Rosanna, trembling as she pulled Willy's face to hers and started to kiss him. She was not surprised when he tensed up as her tongue flicked over his lips, but was comforted when he relaxed and opened his mouth a little wider to return the kiss. Willy moaned a little – it certainly hadn't felt like this when he'd kissed his hand…

After a few minutes, Rosanna broke the kiss, desperate to find out Willy's opinion.

"Well?" She opened her eyes and saw that Willy's face was expressionless, his eyes still closed and his lips still slightly parted as he considered what had just happened. "Willy?" She saw him mouth the word "wow" and grinned lecherously to herself. Willy giggled slightly and covered his mouth with one hand. He opened his eyes and looked at Rosanna, his laughter redoubling at her smile until he was shrieking hysterically with tears running down his face. Rosanna backed off, a little disturbed.

"No – don't go!" begged Willy, wiping a tear with one hand. "I'm sorry – I'm so sorry. Come here," he insisted, holding his arms out to her and calming himself. "Come on, I won't laugh anymore." Rosanna stepped forward and was snatched almost instantly to Willy's chest in a tight embrace.

"Well?" asked Rosanna, nervously.

"Amazing," whispered Willy, drawing a smile from Rosanna. "I had no idea…"

"I told you it wasn't that bad."

"I'm a fool – we could have been doing that for a month already."

"You weren't to know."

"I want you to make sure we kiss like that every day. And there's something else I'd like you to do for me," he added in a sultry tone.

"Anything," replied Rosanna, impressed that Willy's sex drive, which she'd long suspected might be extinct, had been merely dormant and was now kicking back in.

"File those invoices," he instructed in a more normal tone, releasing her and patting her arm twice as he crossed back to his desk chair. "The file's on the shelf." Rosanna gaped and looked a little shocked. "You did say you'd help," said Willy reproachfully, although in reality he knew that there was very little she could do and that he was only forcing this task on her so that she wouldn't notice how nervous he'd become. He folded his hands on his desk to better hide the trembling and looked up at her.

"I was hoping you'd forget," she grumbled, walking over to the shelf. "Which file?"

"Hmm, how about the one labelled Invoices, 2005?" replied Willy sarcastically. Rosanna pulled the file from behind Willy and hit him over the head gently with it. "Ow."

"You had it coming," said Rosanna dryly. "How do you want this done?"

"File by supplier, most recent invoices to the front of each pocket."

"Okay." She tucked the invoices into the correct pockets within the folder over the next ten minutes and replaced it on the shelf, Willy already reabsorbed by the paperwork. "Can I do anything else?"

"Mmm? No, I think that's it. I have to check these myself. Scoot – have fun," he finished with a dismissive wave of his hand. Rosanna leaned over and kissed his hair lightly before turning to leave. Willy looked up and scanned up and down Rosanna's frame as she walked away, tracing the curves of her body and smiling slightly to himself. She caught him looking as she turned by the door and raised an eyebrow quizzically before departing. Willy stared dreamily after her for a few seconds, replaying the kiss in his mind, before turning his attention back to the work on his desk.

That night, Willy insisted that he and Rosanna take their dinner alone in his office. He'd quite got over his fright at discovering that he enjoyed being closer to her – the nervous laughter dispelling the last of his child-like terror of 'cooties.' There were other matters to discuss however, one of which had been playing on his mind since earlier that afternoon.

"What time is your appointment tomorrow?" asked Willy, taking a drink of orange juice.

"Four o'clock. Any chance you could take me?"

"Of course. When have I ever refused to go and see my father?"

"Two weeks ago."

"I was busy. Besides, I knew we'd be going again soon. I can't wait until you get that brace off."

"Why?"

"It's a little distracting," said Willy with a shy smile.

"How many more days are you going to be stuck in that office?"

"Not many. It's like this every year – I could just leave everything to the Oompa-Loompas, but what kind of manager would I be if I didn't at least take an interest in my accounts from time to time?"

"The kind that delegates effectively?" suggested Rosanna.

"Leave me alone. Christmas is the most important time of the year – if my orders are messed up in December, it could ruin the factory."

"Fine – are you sure you don't want any help?"

"I'm sure. How was your afternoon?"

"I went shopping with Molly – Charlie needed some new clothes."

"What's wrong with his old ones?"

"They're too small – he's grown out of them."

"I should really spend some time with the Buckets soon – I haven't seen them for days." Willy chewed thoughtfully for a few minutes, fork pointing at the calendar on the wall. "Is it the sixth today?"

"No, the seventh."

"Then it's been four days since I saw Charlie last and six since I saw the others."

"Breakfast's at seven-thirty. Why don't you come down?"

"Okay. I've usually started work by then but I'll make an exception tomorrow. I was thinking that we could go for a walk in the meadow later and catch up with them."

"If you like." A few minutes of silence passed, during which Willy tensed up again and cast the odd, furtive look at Rosanna.

"Are you happy here Rosanna?"

"Yes," she replied instantly. _Particularly after this morning_, she added mentally. "Why do you ask?"

"This came through in the post for you." He handed her an open envelope. "One of the Oompa-Loompas brought me your mail earlier and I opened it by mistake. Why are you still applying for jobs?" he asked as Rosanna frowned at the rejection letter. "Don't you like it here?"

"Very much."

"Then why are you still trying to find work? It's not like you have rent to pay. Unless you're planning on leaving," said Willy, looking down at his plate as his face twisted into a pained look.

"I'm not. I just felt that I should at least be paying for the food I'm consuming. And of course…"

"What?" asked Willy, unable to understand why anyone would work when they didn't have to.

"If things go wrong," said Rosanna quietly, "If we broke up, I'd have nothing."

"So the job's insurance for when you finally have enough of me?" asked Willy.

"No! I'd never…"

"Then what makes you think I would ever have enough of you?" asked Willy sharply. "Surely you realise how much you mean to me? Why would I ever ask you to leave?"

"You might find out you don't care for me."

"After today, do you still think that's likely?" asked Willy, softening a little as he realised Rosanna was just as confused about all this as he was.

"It's still a possibility."

"Not going to happen. I'd never throw you out, even if something did, as you so delightfully put it, go wrong," said Willy quietly, reaching across and taking Rosanna's hand in his own. "You mean the world to me." He smiled at Rosanna and lifted her hand to his lips.

"Willy, you're so sweet," said Rosanna with a blush.

"Come here," instructed Willy, pushing his chair back as Rosanna walked around the desk. He pulled her down into his lap and hugged her close. "Don't get a job – you don't need it. I know what you're like – you'll end up working somewhere dodgy and some nut will end up attacking you again."

"I can't spend the rest of my life in a cage Willy," said Rosanna, pulling back.

"It's quite easy actually, but I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to relax, retire and accept my generosity."

"I should at least be paying you rent – and paying Mrs Bucket for the food."

"She doesn't pay for the food – I do."

"Willy…"

"The topic is closed for discussion. You're not going to get a job."

"You can't control my life."

"Please don't get a job – I want to know that when I come downstairs looking for you at any time you'll be there, not stuck in some office block until six at night." Willy played with Rosanna's necklace distractedly. "Please don't apply for any more jobs?" he begged, turning his puppy-dog stare on her. Rosanna had built up a limited amount of immunity to The Look, but it was still quite effective.

"So what am I supposed to do all day? Rattle around the factory until you need some TLC?"

"That's the idea, yes." Willy saw the dangerous look in Rosanna's eyes and flashed a brilliant smile. "There are so many things you could do here – and of course you're welcome to leave any time you please to go shopping or whatever it is you feel you need to do out there. Except work, because that's boring and you're not a boring person."

"I'll think about it," said Rosanna, welcoming the reassurances from Willy that she wouldn't be made homeless even if everything did go pear-shaped.

"Please do. Have you had enough to eat?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go down to the meadow – I want to get the visit over with so we can have some more time together later."

"Two minutes," answered Rosanna, shifting position on Willy's lap and stroking his face gently before kissing him, stopping momentarily before their lips met in order that he could object if he wanted to. Willy melted into the kiss and moaned softly, wishing that he'd done this earlier. Rosanna broke the kiss and smiled down at Willy, pecking his nose as she stood up. Slightly disappointed, Willy followed her out of the room.

Mrs Bucket was still washing up when Charlie dumped his English homework on the table, reams of paper fluttering as he searched through to find where he had finished editing earlier. He found it grossly unfair that they were expected to check their spelling through on the first draft – surely that was his teacher's job? Charlie sucked the end of his pencil as he tried to remember how many 'esses' were in dissatisfaction. He was saved from this chore by the arrival of a flushed Willy Wonka and Rosanna, both giggling slightly as they entered the house. Charlie didn't notice anything unusual, being far too young to pick up on the signals the two were giving off, but Mr Bucket did and he tactfully separated the two by calling Rosanna over to show her an article in his newspaper. Willy flashed Charlie a toothy grin and folded his hands on top of his cane.

"What are you up to, squirt?"

"English homework. How am I supposed to correct my spelling if I couldn't spell the words in the first place?"

"Need a proof reader?" asked Willy, holding out his hand for the essay.

"But I need to correct the mistakes in pencil and our writing's different!" protested Charlie as Willy read through the first page.

"Then I'll just circle the mistakes. I have a dictionary upstairs if you need to use it. Pencil," he said thoughtfully, finishing the first page and holding out his hand for Charlie's pencil. Willy frowned a bit at the chewed end and shot a disgusted look at Charlie.

"Sorry. Mum keeps telling me off for that too." Willy turned his attention back to the essay and his lips moved soundlessly as he debated over the grammar in the third paragraph before circling the entire thing and beckoning Charlie over to debate the content and intended meaning. Rosanna shook her head as Mr Bucket pointed out a job in the local ice-cream parlour.

"No, I think I'll leave that for someone who needs it. Willy's not too keen on me working."

"Did he say why?" asked Mr Bucket. Rosanna noticed how the four grandparents, without apparently changing position, had now re-focused their attention on her.

"He did – something along the lines of not wanting to have me away from the factory for too long." Grandpa George rolled his eyes in response.

"What do you see in that fool?" asked the old grouch amicably.

"I have no idea," replied Rosanna, laughing. She looked over to where Charlie and Willy were now deep in conversation, heads bowed as they picked over Charlie's essay watched by a smiling Mrs Bucket. "I guess it's because he's so sweet."

"Sickly, more like," muttered Grandpa George.

"I suppose it makes sense to him to keep you here – this is probably the safest place he knows," said Mr Bucket.

"I know – that's why I don't mind too much," said Rosanna with a smile. She relaxed down into the chair next to Mr Bucket and entered into a half-hour debate with Grandma Georgina about fishpaste sandwiches, while in the background Willy and Charlie made some progress with Charlie's homework.

Willy laughed good-naturedly as Charlie made another botched attempt at spelling "cholera."

"No Charlie, that's an ancient Indian dynasty," laughed Willy. He reached for a scrap of paper and wrote down the correct number of spaces for the number of letters in cholera. "Hangman," said Willy simply.

"A," said Charlie in a bored voice.

"I'm doing my best to make this interesting," complained Willy, filling in the last letter of the word.

"L," drawled Charlie, resting his head on the table. Willy filled in the letter and smiled expectantly at Charlie.

"Well?"

"Q."

"Nope!" Willy drew a single line on the scrap of paper.

"Z."

"Now you're just being silly."

"C," muttered Charlie with a yawn.

"Well done!"

"L."

"You already said that."

"I'm tired…"

"No, sorry, that's not a valid letter," said Willy, filling in another part of the gallows. The game continued until Charlie finally guessed the correct spelling not only of cholera but of the next three words he needed to correct as well.

"Can I do the rest in the morning, Mr Wonka?" pleaded Charlie.

"Do you think you have time?"

"Ye-es," said Charlie hesitantly, hoping that he did.

"Okay – I'll be off then so you can go to bed. Goodnight all!" Willy stood and bowed gracefully, darting out of the door and twirling his cane as he walked across the garden and to the meadow. Charlie and Mrs Bucket watched through the window as Willy stopped a short distance from the house and stared into space for a moment before turning and running back into the house.

"Forget something?" asked Mrs Bucket. Willy nodded and walked slowly over to Rosanna, holding out his hand sheepishly. Rosanna sighed and stood up, taking his hand in hers and following him out of the house to a chorus of "aw" and "bless" from the Bucket family.

"I got confused," said Willy, leading Rosanna across the meadow. "Didn't mean to leave you behind."

"I wouldn't have minded – I could have followed later."

"But then we couldn't have watched another movie together," whined Willy. "I want to spend some more time with you."

"My choice or yours tonight?"

"Mine," said Willy, holding the elevator door open for Rosanna. He stepped in behind her and closed the door, hitting the button for his apartment. "Thanks for today."

"Which part in particular?"

"All of it," said Willy, blushing as he looked down at his feet. "I hope you don't think I was forward in asking you to…" his voice faltered and he turned a darker crimson.

"Kiss you?" said Rosanna with a smile. "Not at all."

"I wouldn't want you to think I didn't respect you," said Willy desperately.

"I don't. There would be very little you could say that would give that impression."

"So it wasn't too forward?"

"Willy, if you were any less forward, you'd be going in reverse," sighed Rosanna exasperatedly. She smiled at him briefly and caught the gleam in his eyes as he studied her face as if trying to decide whether she was insulting him or not.

"Just wanted to make sure," said Willy, looking back at his gloves.

"I know honey. So what are we watching tonight?"

"How about a cheesy horror film?"

"If you insist."

"I do!" announced Willy as the elevator slowed to a stop. "Come on!" He bounced out of the elevator, Rosanna shaking her head at his hyperactivity.

While Rosanna's ambitions for the day had been more than achieved and she was now in the mood to switch off and watch anything provided it wasn't too taxing, Willy's inner thoughts had been severely upset since his encounter with her the previous evening. It was for this reason that he made little effort to talk to Rosanna before starting the DVD and why he couldn't concentrate on the movie. Rosanna was gripped, giggling at the atrocious upper-class accent from one of the characters in the railway carriage in the opening scene. Willy pretended to be interested in the movie, but in fact used the time to order his thoughts about Rosanna. He wrapped his arms around her and occasionally planted a kiss on her hair, inhaling her scent as he did so. The comforting weight of her head on his chest and her rhythmic breathing relaxed Willy, allowing him to indulge in a spot of introspection. Rosanna's residence at the factory, unintentional though it had been, had provided Willy with a glimpse of what life could be like with a permanent partner. He had enjoyed their private meals together and his growing attraction to her had made him determined to ensure that she never wanted to leave. He wasn't convinced that he could survive her departure, the panic he'd felt on opening her letter earlier proving that beyond a shadow of a doubt. On top of this, the police had not yet caught the swine that had attacked her and Willy worried about Rosanna on each occasion she left the factory, terrified in case something happened to her. Despite her protestations, Willy would have happily locked the two of them into a cage in order to ensure her safety. Every time she smiled at him his heart skipped a beat and when they kissed – oh, gods, when they kissed…

All these thoughts led Willy to a conclusion he was quite sure a matter of a week ago he would have vehemently denied. His initial attraction, his crush, his increasingly obvious attachment to her that had evoked the occasional humorous or sarcastic remark from those around him – had grown into an undeniable, overwhelming _love_ for her. Willy cuddled Rosanna close to him as the thought settled. _He loved her._ He tried to ascertain when exactly the change had occurred. Perhaps it was something that had always been true and it had simply taken him this long to realise it. Willy wondered if there was any chance Rosanna felt the same way. _Probably not,_ he thought sadly, _I'm definitely not the easiest person to get close to – I'm impressed she's still around. That's why she wants to work – so she can get out and meet normal people from time to time._ Depressed, Willy sank back into his pillows and stroked Rosanna's hair gently. Rosanna stirred and Willy realised that the movie had ended.

"That was so bad it was good," proclaimed Rosanna. "Though, I'm not sure the art critic deserved to be blinded."

"Yeah," said Willy vaguely, not caring particularly. He supposed it had been a sensible move to pick a movie he'd seen a number of times so that he could bluff his way through if Rosanna wanted to talk about the plot. "Pity about the dog."

"I know – that was horrible!" She shuffled around to look up at Willy and stared up at him for a few moments. "What's up?"

"Oh, I'm tired," lied Willy. "Sorry."

"Shall I go to bed and leave you in peace?"

"Would you hug me first please?" asked Willy, closing his eyes as Rosanna raised herself and put her arms around him, embracing him tightly. He slipped his hands around her back and brought his left cheek to rest against her right ear. _I love you_. He kissed the nape of Rosanna's neck and ran his hands up to her shoulders, shuddering as Rosanna sighed appreciatively.

"That was nice – who taught you how to do that?" asked Rosanna with a grin.

"It just seemed right," answered Willy, cuddling her close and closing his eyes. Rosanna seemed to sense that Willy didn't want her to leave just yet and wrapped her arms around his skinny chest, playing with the buttons on his waistcoat in a distracted way as she lay there.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Not for sale, sorry."

"What's the matter Willy? You must tell me," insisted Rosanna, still avoiding eye contact in case it intimidated him.

"I'm not able to tell you at the moment," said Willy, wondering if he'd ever be able to.

"We shouldn't have any secrets from one another Willy."

"Why not? Who said that?"

"People in general."

"I think you'll find that people in general are generally wrong," sighed Willy, resting his head back on the headboard. "Please Rosanna, I don't want to discuss it tonight. Maybe tomorrow. It's been a nice evening."

"Okay."

"Thanks." Willy played with Rosanna's hair a little and listened as her breathing became quieter and quieter. "You need to go to bed Rosanna."

"Mmm?"

"Bed. Now!" said Willy with a smile, helping her to sit up.

"I'm not sleepy," said Rosanna grouchily, cheering up slightly as Willy kissed her forehead.

"Yes, you are. Off you trot." Willy sat cross-legged on his bed and watched Rosanna pull herself to her feet and walk out of his room, throwing him only the briefest smile as she walked through the door and pulled it closed it behind her. He listened as Rosanna's footsteps became fainter until they faded altogether and the oppressive silence of the factory closed in around his room. Only then did he dare whisper to the empty room, "I love you."

* * *

**Just to reassure you, this is the last chapter for some time that will concentrate solely on the "icky" stuff. Let me know what you think.**

**In the next chapter…**

**Rosanna has the temporary brace removed (hoorah!)**

**More from the Oompa-Loompas **

**Willy goes Christmas shopping**

**Charlie learns why eavesdropping is never a good idea**


	19. A whole new set of rails

Rosanna squirmed uncomfortably in the chair, her eyes screwed closed as she fought against the instinct to cry out with pain. The scraping sound from her mouth was somehow louder than she expected, echoing through her skull and terrifying her.

"Good, everything seems to be healing nicely. I think we can proceed with removing the splints at least," muttered Dr Wonka, concentrating on Rosanna's incisors and paying little heed to her discomfort. "Any pain?" he continued.

"Eg," Rosanna gargled. Dr Wonka gave an ironic smile and moved his fingers and examining mirror out of Rosanna's mouth. She swallowed and tried again. "Yes. But a lot less than a month ago."

"I'm going to suggest we keep using the temporary brace for now – you can remove it for meals and so on."

"Thanks," said Rosanna, relieved to be getting rid of the irritating splints at least. Dr Wonka clinked a few instruments out of view from the chair.

"How are things between you and Willy?"

"Good – couldn't be better," said Rosanna, smiling at the memory of the previous day before remembering who she was talking to.

"That's nice," replied Dr Wonka, crossing back to Rosanna with a painful-looking piece of dental equipment. Rosanna shut her mouth defensively. "Come on, open up," sighed Dr Wonka. "It will be over soon, I promise." He started removing the metal splints carefully. "Tell me Rosanna, has Willy been avoiding me recently?" Rosanna shook her head cautiously, conscious of the sharp implement in her mouth. "Do you know why he cancelled a fortnight ago?" Again, Rosanna shook her head. Dr Wonka retreated briefly to pick up the next piece of kit he required.

"I did ask, but he said he was just busy. I don't think he's avoiding you – there's no reason for him to." Dr Wonka looked back to Rosanna and raised an eyebrow at her.

"I know that and you know that, but I think Willy might still think I disapprove of you two." He paused before continuing his work to allow Rosanna to reply.

"You don't, do you?"

"No."

"Not anymore, eh?" joked Rosanna.

"I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time at the start."

"Me too. I'll try to make sure that Willy visits more often."

"That would be very much appreciated." A clatter from the waiting room interrupted them. "I think we had better continue – my son's limited patience appears to have already come to its limit." Rosanna grinned at the door briefly before resting back on the chair.

Willy picked up the telephone and replaced it onto the table with a guilty look. Taking extra care, he stepped up onto the seat of the telephone table and reached for the highest shelf of the bookcase, pulling down the black box he'd spotted and which had been the cause of his leaping onto the table and upsetting it earlier. He jumped back to the ground and settled himself on the seat, taking a deep breath before opening the box. When he had been a child, there had been nights where he was more restless than others and on those nights he had wandered silently around the house. On more than one occasion he had seen his father rifling through the contents of this box, shoulders hunched and a glass of brandy by his side, the odd, stifled sob emanating from the parlour. Willy had always dismissed these memories in later life, recalling only the moments where his father had caused him some kind of emotional pain thanks to his overwhelming abandonment issues. Lately however he had been more inclined to remember the better times, and even accept that there must have been moments where his father had wept over the loss of his wife. He looked down into the box.

A wad of tissue paper obscured the other contents from view and Willy moved it gently to the table next to him. Underneath was a sad jumble of memories – jewellery, photographs and even a lace handkerchief embroidered with the initials E.W. and folded carefully into a corner of the box. Inside an unobtrusive ring box was a pair of rings – a plain, gold band and a single solitaire diamond ring. Willy bit his lip as he picked up the engagement ring and turned it over in the palm of his hand.

"You had tiny fingers, mum," he whispered sadly, replacing the ring in its box and reaching for a stack of photographs. Most were of his mother and he recognised some of her clothes from the album his father had given him a few months earlier. There were some photographs of his father, Willy now registering the difference between his father's smile before his mother's death and just after. One photograph made him laugh out loud – it showed Willy on his first day of school, short trousers and tatty satchel both slightly too large for him. Willy read the tiny letters on the faded label of the satchel – W. L. Wonka. He'd forgotten he'd ever owned a satchel. Hearing a noise from inside the surgery room, Willy hastily replaced the contents of the box and leapt onto the table to put it back on the shelf, bouncing down and standing primly to attention just as Rosanna and his father emerged from the room.

"Hi!" said Willy brightly.

"What have you done?" asked Dr Wonka, distrusting the fragile smile on Willy's face.

"Nothing."

"Hmm… If you say so…" Dr Wonka gave Willy a suspicious look and flashed a brief smile at Rosanna. "I'm just going to clean up – make yourselves comfortable." He walked back into the surgery room, glancing at Willy as he closed the door.

"What have you been up to?" asked Rosanna, linking her arm through Willy's and pulling him towards the parlour.

"Nothing! Honestly, why would you think otherwise?"

"It's the way you smile really brightly. Highly suspect."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"What did you do?"

"Tell you later," said Willy, collapsing down onto the sofa.

"Promise?"

"Yes." Willy looked over at Rosanna while she sat daintily next to him. "How are the teeth?"

"Fixed. I still need to keep the brace for a month, but your father has said I can remove it for meals and so on."

"Did he say those exact words?"

"Yes, why?"

"He knows, he knows…" muttered Willy, rubbing his hands together nervously.

"Knows what?"

"That we've kissed."

"So? I really don't think he minds, Willy."

"But how can we be sure?" Willy gave a wide-eyed stare and shuddered. Rosanna sighed impatiently.

"You could always ask him."

"Yeah, 'cause that would be a fun conversation," mumbled Willy, glancing side-to-side before biting his bottom lip nervously. Rosanna rolled her eyes and settled back more comfortably into the sofa before turning her attention to the television.

Meanwhile, at the chocolate factory, Charlie was prodding at a vat of golden syrup with a long stick in a distracted kind of way. He'd just come from school and was in a buoyant mood thanks to the fact he'd been one of the few who had handed in his English homework on time and thus avoided a detention the following day at break-time. He reminded himself to thank Willy for helping. Assuming he could speak to Willy again within the next month without feeling he was interrupting. Charlie was feeling somewhat neglected as an heir, the hour the night before not really making up for Willy's absence for days beforehand. Despite himself, Charlie resented the amount of time Rosanna was spending with Willy, feeling he had been cast aside when he had ceased to be a novelty.

It was hard for someone like Charlie to dislike someone. Rosanna was, as far as Charlie could ascertain, a perfectly acceptable person. She was always nice to his parents and on the occasions he'd spent with her had been great fun to talk to and beat at scrabble (to be fair, she'd usually let him win). When Charlie was around Rosanna, he could never think of anything to say against her. On the long evenings in the factory when he would have normally have been spending time with Willy in the Inventing Room and was in fact stuck in his home doing homework while Willy and Rosanna "watched DVDs" however, he could think of plenty of complaints. Like the fact the last true invention had been the Christmas tree candies. And that it had been Charlie who had come up with that idea and not Willy. Anyone would think Willy wasn't interested in inventing candy anymore…

Charlie stopped stirring the syrup and looked down into the translucent, golden liquid thoughtfully. Since Rosanna had moved in, Willy had been spending more and more time with her. Yes, he'd completed the jobs that were vital to the ongoing running of the factory, but there hadn't been any of the 'extras' that Charlie had come to expect. Gone were the loud explosions from the Inventing Room at midnight. Gone too were the idle chats in the meadow about which type of chocolate would be best for use as a toothpaste or other such pressing issues. Charlie therefore felt a sense of resentment towards Rosanna, knowing that she was the reason Willy was less inclined to while away hours testing out new candies and why he, Charlie, was going to have to take over the running of the Inventing Room very soon if they were to have any new candies out for the New Year. Had the man completely forgotten that Prodnose was already advertising his forthcoming Valentine's range in the shops? Charlie paced up and down inside the syrup room, racking his brains for an idea that would ensure that Wonka's candy outsold the products manufactured by those unscrupulous, pen-pushing, bean-counting, guttersnipes Ficklegruber, Prodnose and Slugworth…

"So, what did you do?" asked Rosanna once Willy had secured the doors of the elevator and given a final wave to his father. Willy threw her an irritated look and hit the controls for the autopilot to steer the elevator back to the factory. He had been hoping to keep the box of memories to himself for a little while as he took his own time to fully appreciate the contents.

"Dad has a box of trinkets that used to belong to mum. I found it and went through it. I didn't want to tell him in case he got annoyed and we ended up having another row." Willy pursed his lips and looked down at the shrinking house below them. "I found her engagement ring."

"Willy, why didn't you talk about this with your father?"

"And have him know that I've been snooping around? No thanks."

"Willy, you can't keep doing this to yourself – your father is desperate to rebuild his relationship with you. He doesn't disapprove of us and I'm sure he'd gladly discuss your mother with you – you don't need to sneak around looking for keepsakes."

"I suppose," said Willy, dropping his arms to his sides and glazing over for a moment.

"Your father would like to see you more often. He was quite upset that you cancelled your last visit. Maybe next time you can come on your own and have a heart-to-heart with him – it would help you both."

"Good idea," muttered Willy, acknowledging that if anyone could help him understand his feelings towards Rosanna and how he should act upon them, it might be his father. He had considered asking Mr Bucket for advice, but as the Buckets never seemed to have any problems sharing their thoughts and emotions with each other he wasn't sure that Michael would understand. The only other person he knew who was as emotionally retarded as himself was his father, although how he was going to initiate the conversation was beyond him at the moment. "I'll go back and see him at some point this week." He doubted whether he would speak about the black box to his father – Dr Wonka was entitled to believe he still had some secrets after all.

"Good." Rosanna gave Willy a comforting smile and looked down at the grey, dank landscape below them. The two did not speak further for the remainder of the journey back to the factory, Rosanna respecting Willy's need for silence and Willy lost to his own thoughts.

As the elevator stopped at the portal for the chocolate meadow, Willy snapped out of his trance and threw a half-smile at Rosanna.

"I have something to tell you," said Willy. "Come with me." Willy led her out of the elevator and across the meadow towards the far side of the chocolate room. They reached a secluded corner and Willy sat down, gesturing to the grass next to him.

"Sit down," he whispered quietly, waving at the grass. Rosanna sank down gracefully next to him, Willy watching her figure with obvious approval. "A week ago I asked the Oompa-Loompa chief if I could take you to the village. I had the reply this morning – we're both invited to attend a wedding tomorrow." Willy smiled up at Rosanna and reached up to her face, gently stroking her hair. "What do you think? You want to go?"

"Yes – what should I wear?"

"Anything you like. It's even hotter in the village than in the rest of the factory, so you might want to bear that in mind."

"What kind of present should I take?"

"Nothing – it's bad luck in their culture. They will expect you to take part in the ceremony with all the other women but I'm sure you will manage that."

"Take part?"

"The men and women sit separately and chant while the ceremony takes place. It's easy – I've done it loads of times."

"Any dancing?"

"Plenty." Willy removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair, giggling to himself over the tribal dances he'd participated in over the last ten years. He replaced the hat and looked back at Rosanna. "You might want to get an early night – the ceremony starts at six in the morning. I shall call for you at five," he added, standing and leaning over her to kiss her goodnight. "I need to help them set up some things – see you tomorrow." Willy brushed his lips lightly against Rosanna's and smiled before turning on his heels and striding off into the distance.

Rosanna caught herself smiling and hugged her arms tightly while looking around the quiet little grove where Willy had asked her to be his date for the wedding. She looked over the meadow and reflected on her blossoming relationship with Willy Wonka. He could be utterly charming and was sweeter than any other man she'd ever met, and yet she wasn't entirely sure how he felt about her. She found it strange that he didn't trust her as completely as she did him, his reluctance to communicate about what had upset him the night before unsettling her. Sighing, realising that getting close to Willy Wonka was going to take longer than she had originally anticipated, Rosanna took Willy's advice and went to bed.

Willy stopped off at the Bucket house before going to his rooms and, as was now usual, entered with a brief knock and a wide smile. He noticed that the grandparents were asleep and beckoned to Mr and Mrs Bucket.

"Hi!" he whispered. "Is Charlie about?"

"He went to bed an hour ago," answered Mrs Bucket. "What did you want?"

"To talk to the two of you actually – can you come outside?"

"Sure," said Mr Bucket, following his wife as Willy led the way out of the house. Willy crouched next to the wall of the house and beckoned the two Buckets closer.

"I've got a surprise for Charlie."

"What is it?" asked Mrs Bucket, whispering excitedly in response.

"It's kind of a Christmas present, but it's finished now so I was wondering if you think I should wait until Christmas to give it to him."

"What is it?" insisted Mrs Bucket.

"Ah no – I'm not telling you! You're his mother and he's bound to be able to worm it out of you!" Willy laughed loudly, Mr Bucket shushing him and making just as much noise in doing so. The three adults, crouched in the cabbage beds, waited with baited breath to check that they hadn't disturbed anyone before continuing.

"I think it might be better if you left it for Christmas, Mr Wonka. Charlie does get so excited about that time of year – and he's never had a spectacular Christmas present before," said Mrs Bucket sadly. "Kids do so love getting their presents on Christmas morning – it's just not the same if they turn up before or after the day."

"Okay, I will gift wrap it accordingly." He stood up and Charlie's parents followed suit.

"Just don't let Charlie go snooping around!" said Willy in his best imitation of a stern and authoritarian voice.

"We won't," said Mr Bucket. He leaned forward and whispered, "we wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."

"And Charlie is just a kid," said Willy, smiling as he remembered the anticipation with which he'd always viewed his presents on Christmas morning, and frowning as he recalled the inevitable disappointment. "Especially when it comes to surprises. Keep his curiosity under control, and everything should be alright. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to be off. Are you sure none of you want to come to the wedding tomorrow?"

"No, it's fine really – Michael's got work and Charlie's at school."

"Best place for him in the circumstances," said Willy, waggling his eyebrows and tapping his nose conspiratorially. A thump from the house behind them interrupted the conversation for a few seconds, Willy pausing to check through the window that the grandparents were still asleep. "See you on Thursday." With that, Willy touched the brim of his hat briefly and bowed goodbye. Mr and Mrs Bucket exchanged furtive looks and headed back into the house, both determined to find out exactly what Willy Wonka had made for Charlie.

Upstairs in his bedroom, Charlie wiped an angry tear from his eye and took a deep breath. He had been rudely awakened by Willy's laugh and had crawled to the roof window in his room to find out what was going on. He saw his parents talking to Willy, but didn't hear all of the conversation as he considered it wise to duck out of sight in case he was seen. He did however hear his name being mentioned and had very clearly heard the following:

"Just don't let Charlie go snooping around!" Charlie thought that Mr Wonka sounded unnecessarily angry about something.

"We won't," replied his father in a quiet voice. Whatever Mr Wonka was upset about, he had obviously decided that Charlie's parents deserved some of the blame. His father mumbled something else in response.

"And Charlie is just a kid," announced Mr Wonka's voice. Charlie stared at the wall in front of him in shock – surely Mr Wonka hadn't come to the erroneous conclusion that Charlie was 'just a kid' and therefore was revoking his rights to walk around the factory unsupervised? Charlie was so distracted by this thought that he completely missed the next part of the conversation, but tuned in again in time to hear Mr Wonka proclaim that school was the best place for Charlie. Hurt, Charlie kicked out at the wall in protest, freezing when he realised that his parents at least would have heard that. Soundlessly, breathlessly, Charlie crept back to bed and sobbed silently for a few seconds before his anger returned. One thought coursed through Charlie's mind, _It's all her fault…_

It was another hour or so until Charlie's temper subsided enough for him to admit that, whatever Mr Wonka was upset about, it probably wasn't Rosanna's fault. He did feel that it was no coincidence that as Mr Wonka spent more time with Rosanna, Charlie was pushed further into the background. Perhaps he hadn't been taking his candy-making lessons seriously so Mr Wonka thought he couldn't be trusted until he was older? He had laughed an awful lot last weekend when Mr Wonka had shown him what happened to super-heated jelly beans (narrowly missing singeing his own eyebrows in the process) but then again so had Mr Wonka (after ensuring that he still looked presentable in a nearby mirror). Deciding to redouble his efforts in the Inventing Room – assuming he was not now banned – Charlie turned over grumpily in his bed and pulled the covers around him.

The world was uncommonly quiet the next morning when Rosanna woke up and blinked at the dark room around her. She glanced over to the bedside clock and rubbed her eyes blearily as the numbers slowly came into focus – 05:05. She vaguely remembered setting the alarm for four-thirty the night before, and it had certainly woken her up as she recalled hitting it three times. Rosanna groaned as she realised that she'd fallen back to sleep and Willy would be expecting her to be ready and she was anything but. She slipped out of bed, fighting briefly with her night-dress to straighten it, and stood stretching to try and wake up.

Suddenly, the lights in the room flicked on. Rosanna swore and jerked her head towards the door, only to find it shut. Whoever had turned the lights on was already in the room. She circled slowly and saw Willy sitting behind her on the sofa, one hand still hovering over the light switch and a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"Good morning. Did we oversleep?" asked Willy.

"Bloody Hell – don't do that again! How long have you been here?"

"Five minutes. I told you I'd be calling for you."

"I fell back to sleep."

"You have half-an-hour to get ready."

"Sorry – let me just get changed…" Rosanna stumbled around gathering clothes and then disappeared into the bathroom. Willy grinned and shook his head – he liked the fact she was rushing for his sake – he couldn't remember anyone making that kind of effort for him before and was, above everything else, flattered. In order to kill some time while Rosanna got herself ready for the wedding, Willy leafed through a magazine on Rosanna's bedside table. He read through the gossip pages and wondered at why celebrities took such pains to be noticed while out shopping if all they wanted, according to their claims, was to be 'left alone.' Absorbed in the brightly coloured, appalling 'real-life' stories, Willy flicked through and browsed articles on everything from failed laser eye surgery to breast-reduction, carefully averting his eyes on certain pages. Just as he was about to find out what the top ten things that women hated about men were, Rosanna emerged from the bathroom in a white shirt and long, blue skirt. Willy quickly stashed the magazine underneath the others, making a mental note to read that article later.

"Ready?"

"Yes – can we get breakfast somewhere? I'm starving."

"There'll be something there to eat. Come on," Willy stood up and for the first time Rosanna registered that he wasn't wearing his coat or waistcoat and wearing only his shirt and trousers. Admittedly, the swirled-purple-blotches on the shirt were loud enough to make up for the lack of outerwear, but it was still a shock to see Willy so underdressed. While she stock of his appearance, Willy sighed impatiently and held a hand out to her. "We're going to be late – and that would be impolite." They walked out of Rosanna's room and into the elevator portal.

Rosanna scanned over the walls of the elevator for a button to the Oompa-Loompa village, though she couldn't find one. Willy was watching her with some interest.

"Anything wrong?"

"Where is the button?"

"There isn't one."

"Then how?" she trailed off, realising that Willy was waiting to show her something. On cue, Willy pressed the middle of three, plain buttons next to the doors. The lighting inside the elevator shaft turned green, the reflections from the shiny, metallic surfaces around them giving Rosanna the impression they were standing inside the nerve centre of a great spaceship. Willy turned his attention back to the wall.

"Lip Gloss," he said, pressing the button, "Exploding Candy, Whipplescrumptious, Dynamo," he muttered, pressing each button in turn. "Hold on," he added, turning to Rosanna. As she coiled her hands around the rail behind her, Willy pressed the final button in the sequence, Nut Room, and the lighting in the shaft returned to normal. For a moment, Rosanna thought something had gone wrong, but she knew this assumption was incorrect as Willy took hold of the rail next to her, gripping it hard.

"Willy?" It wasn't like the man to be nervous of elevator rides. "What's going on…Oh shi…" shrieked Rosanna as the elevator dropped from the doorway at a truly vomit-inducing speed.

What Rosanna would have noticed, had she not been screaming at the top of her lungs with her eyes shut, was that they were now travelling along a whole new set of rails and plunging diagonally through the factory. As Willy had keyed in the sequence, the elevator tracks had shifted position, allowing the elevator along the only route to the Oompa-Loompa village other than the secret passages used by the Oompa-Loompas. As the elevator jerked and changed direction, sweeping upwards and towards a patch of yellow light, Rosanna found the courage to open one, weary eye. Willy was braced against the railings, his eyes closed in an effort not to be sick. This didn't comfort Rosanna in the slightest and she closed her eye again, praying for the end.

The elevator stopped with a jerk and a screech of brakes against metal.

"Are we dead yet?" asked Rosanna.

"No. We're here." Willy shook himself straightened his shirt. "Sorry – I've never been able to work out why it does that. It must be something to do with the rails."

"It only happens on the way to the village though, right?"

"And on the way back."

"Any chance we could walk?"

"None. I'll ask the Oompa-Loompas to investigate again." Willy offered his arm to Rosanna. "Shall we?"

Rosanna was still a little shaky after the elevator ride and at first didn't notice her surroundings, other than to register that she was uncomfortably hot and that the sweltering heat was going to cause sweat patches. Upon recovery however, she held her head up and gasped – she was standing in the middle of a forest of young trees, each one as tall as a house. Around her, ferns and tropical flowers clustered around the narrow path in front of them, their strong scent overwhelming her. Something small, brown and naked ran across the path, too quickly for Rosanna to make out clearly.

"What was that?" asked Rosanna.

"A child," said Willy, disapprovingly. "Don't refer to them as "that" – they are people you know."

"I didn't see what it was," defended Rosanna, looking up at the forest canopy above her. "Is this what Loompaland looks like?"

"Not really. This is more like a botanical gardens – most of the plants here aren't even found in Loompaland, but I imported them because they're fast growing and look rather nice. The Oompa-Loompas don't mind – I asked them if they would like to have some of the animals over from Loompaland to add more realism to their surroundings, but they said absolutely not under any circumstances."

"So there are no animals here?"

"Just insects for the flowers. Small ones though – and nothing that bites or stings. And the humming birds and flycatchers of course," added Willy, pointing at a flash of gold in the trees ahead.

"Why?"

"Something has to keep the number of flies down. And some of the flowers are only pollinated by humming birds. Didn't they teach you anything at school?"

"Not about rainforest food webs, no. We did maths and genetics instead."

"How very practical," muttered Willy. "Look – it's the village!" He pointed to a clearing ahead, in which were clustered a number of round huts with thatched roofs. A large, central hut appeared to be the main hall and a number of Oompa-Loompas were darting in and out, carrying food and drink. Rosanna studied their clothes carefully. As far as she could ascertain, roughly half were dressed in furs and the half were wearing leaves. Another naked child ran past and Rosanna turned to Willy.

"Where are their uniforms?"

"Would you wear your uniform at home if you were, for sake of argument, a policewoman?"

"Only if you asked nicely," replied Rosanna automatically. "No," she added quickly as Willy's eyes threatened to leave his skull. He shot her a nervous look before continuing.

"These are their traditional clothes. The women wear leaves and the men, furs."

"Those are women?"

"You mean you can't tell the difference? How very odd… That," he added, pointing to a large, round mass of woven reeds suspended high in the trees, "is a traditional house. When the forest gets older, all the houses will be moved back into the trees. I'd better let them know we've arrived. Wait here." Willy pulled his arm free and walked forward into the clearing, his arms wide-open. He tilted his head backwards. "Lulululululah!" Willy kneeled in supplication and waited for the tribe to respond.

Rosanna watched as the village elders approached Willy, their heads crowned with elaborate headdresses made from the leaves of the cocoa tree, spears held within tiny fists as they approached. Willy performed a complicated series of hand gestures and received a nod of approval from a greying, fat Oompa-Loompa who Rosanna took to be the chief. At the nod, Willy stood up and turned to face Rosanna.

"Come here!" Rosanna trotted over and stood next to Willy, facing the diminutive chief with mild discomfort. He was still wearing a stern and disapproving expression and she was sure that she had never seen this particular Oompa-Loompa elsewhere in the factory. "Bow like this," instructed Willy, his right arm clasped across his chest as he bowed to the chief. Rosanna did likewise and looked across to the chief's eyes. He held her gaze for a moment before his face split with a wide grin and he nodded a second time. The elders departed, leaving Willy and Rosanna to themselves. A younger Oompa-Loompa trotted up and pulled on Willy's trouser leg. While Willy leaned down to listen, Rosanna looked around the village and chewed her bottom lip nervously. She had no idea what she was supposed to do today and was relying heavily on Willy to help her.

"Thank you," said Willy, dismissing the Oompa-Loompa who scampered away without bowing. "The wedding breakfast is ready in the main hall – we're welcome to help ourselves and then we can go trade in the market until the ceremony at eleven o'clock."

"What?"

"Food. This Way," said Willy, miming the words as he spoke.

"Okay," replied Rosanna, following him as he crawled into the main hut. All around the room, Oompa-Loompas were feasting on what Willy assured her were traditional Loompaland dishes that, due to some creative tweaking on the part of the chefs, no longer contained any of the original ingredients and also tasted completely different (in short, they were palatable due to the lack of green caterpillars).

After eating their fill, Willy and Rosanna headed out into the square behind the main hut where a number of stalls had been set up, each containing different wares – pottery, jewellery, clothing and the like. Rosanna looked up at Willy.

"What's this?"

"The market of course."

"Is this part of the celebration?"

"No, silly, this is where they buy or trade their clothes. It's here every day. Take these," said Willy, handing her a small pouch. Rosanna opened it and caught the scent of chocolate. "Cocoa beans have replaced pebbles as currency since they came to the factory. Go have fun – buy anything you like."

"Come with me?"

"Not scared are you?" Rosanna looked around the village at the tiny crowds milling around them, terrified that at some point today she was going to step on someone and cause a serious injury.

"No."

"Then off you pop. There's a nice pottery stall over there," said Willy, pointing to a distant bush with a queue next to it. "The stall is around the corner." Willy watched until Rosanna had disappeared from sight and made his way to the nearest jewellery stall. "Do you have it?" he asked the stall-holder. The Oompa-Loompa nodded in response and passed Willy a delicate necklace crafted in traditional Oompa-Loompan style and carved from the wood of the cocoa tree. Willy breathed in its scent and smiled. "It's perfect – thanks." He handed an entire handful of cocoa beans to the delighted stall holder, who gave a high pitched squeal of delight and high-fived the person next to him. Willy wandered to the side of the square and sat down on a rock, turning the delicate necklace over and over in his hands. It was just what he'd imagined it would be when he placed the order the week before and would make a perfect present for Rosanna this Christmas.

The next few hours were spent wandering around the village, introducing Rosanna to most of the villagers. A group of young (at least, Rosanna had been told they were young) women took a liking to Rosanna and showed her how to perform the wedding chant she'd be involved in later. Willy giggled as Rosanna got the hand actions wrong for the third time, effectively wishing the happy couple good weather for their journey, rather than a lifetime of happiness. It warmed his heart to see Rosanna sitting cross-legged with the Oompa-Loompa women, concentrating furiously on perfecting the chant before the wedding. A gong sounded in the background and Willy turned around to check what was going on before explaining to Rosanna what she would need to do.

"Take a seat with the women – I'll see you after the ceremony," said Willy, kissing Rosanna's forehead before darting off to take his place. The gong sounded again and was joined by the insistent, rhythmic, beating of a drum. Rosanna followed the young girls into the hut and sat behind the rest of the women on the right of the hut with her back to the hut wall. She folded her legs underneath her and glanced over to see Willy doing the same. He grinned at her and she winked in response. On a dais at the centre of the hut stood an Oompa-Loompa dressed in a cloak of white feathers in front of a cocoa bean on a pedestal. Kneeling on the other side of the pedestal was the bridegroom – a rather nervous looking young Oompa-Loompa in white fur. A series of pan-pipes joined the drumming outside and the Oompa-Loompas began the wedding chant – the bride was on her way…


	20. Disaster strikes

The chanting inside the main hut stopped instantly the moment the bride appeared in her gown of petals from an orchid the Oompa-Loompas had begged Willy to import from Loompaland. The large, white petals were sown carefully together to form a toga-like dress, decorated with the lightest of flower garlands. Rosanna cast a furtive glance in Willy's direction and saw that his eyes were fixed on the priest and couple in front of them. She noted how a smile was playing on his lips and tried to commit the fuzzy, unfocused look in his eyes to memory. Clearly, he was very fond of this particular ritual. She looked back to the priest and saw that he was instructing the couple to kneel in front of the cocoa bean. As they did so, the chanting restarted and Rosanna desperately tried to remember the correct hand actions to bring blessings from the Oompa-Loompa gods rather than a cold winter. 

_Right arm snakes down, left hand goes up, nod twice_, thought Rosanna, muddling the words of the chant as she concentrated on the actions. Peering over the forest of hands in front of her, she saw the priest bind the right hands of the couple together with a length of ribbon. She chanced another look at Willy. Far from her own, jerky, attempts to follow the dance and chant, Willy was smoothly following the routine with no sign of hesitancy. _Well, he did say he's done this dozens of times before. Ack, right hand not left… _She turned her eyes back to the centre of the hut and watched as the priest presented the cocoa bean to the happy couple, who held it aloft between them, albeit a little awkwardly due to the ribbon still being in place. There was a general cheer from the crowd around her and Rosanna sat back hurriedly as the Oompa-Loompas darted out of the hall in what, to Rosanna, looked suspiciously like a conga line. _Bet that's something Willy introduced them to. _A human-sized hand tapped her on the shoulder.  
"Come on - the party's just getting started!" said Willy with a huge smile. He held out his hand to her and half-led, half-dragged her out of the hut, both of them crouching to kneeling as they passed through the doorway.

Willy pulled Rosanna forward and into the middle of the square, the two of them deftly avoiding a group of dancing Oompa-Loompas. Smiling at her confusion over what to do next, he took her hands in his and led her on a wild chase around the square.

"I don't know the steps!" cried Rosanna as they circled faster and faster, in time with the insistent beating of a drum. All around them, Oompa-Loompas were linked, hand in hand, spinning faster and faster around the newlyweds standing in the centre of the square and grinning.

"Neither do I!" laughed Willy, pulling Rosanna after him as the dance became more frantic. Rosanna gripped onto Willy's hands for fear of falling, constantly aware of the tiny Oompa-Loompas around her and trying desperately not to step on anyone. She felt dizzy - the only thing she could focus on was Willy and that was because he was moving just as quickly as she was. They continued for many dances, each wilder than the last. Rosanna looked into Willy's eyes - he was laughing to himself and seemed lost in the music. _Perhaps there is something in the air in this place._ As Willy tossed his head back to the music and let out a low laugh, Rosanna caught a glimpse of the wedding couple - both looked ecstatic at the frenzied dancing around them and she felt sure they were actually disappointed they couldn't join in. Seeing no alternative, Rosanna allowed the spiralling, possessed chocolatier to lead her through some of the Oompa-Loompas' most sacred and energetic tribal dances.

Just when Rosanna was sure she would be violently sick, a gong sounded and the drums abruptly stopped. The Oompa-Loompas sank to the ground in disorientated heaps, forcing themselves to look towards the high priest who had taken up position in the centre of the square with the young couple. Willy and Rosanna gratefully sank down to their knees and paid attention to the proceedings. The high priest raised his arms and said something in Oompa-Loompa that Rosanna did not understand. Whatever it was, he sounded dreadfully serious. The wedding guests stood and followed the priest back into the main hall.

"What's going on?" whispered Rosanna.

"Lunch," replied Willy with a grin. "Come on - I'm starving!"

Charlie arrived home and immediately headed for the Inventing Room, a new idea for a candy for Valentine's day burning in his forebrain. If he didn't jot down the idea - if he didn't start developing the new candy - he was sure that his head would explode. "Must write this down…" muttered Charlie, pressing the call button for the elevator. To his extreme annoyance, the "in service" light flashed twice. "Aargh!" grunted Charlie, running off to the stairwell and pelting down the corridor to the Inventing Room. Once there, he threw his rucksack into the corner carelessly and pulled out a notepad from the store underneath the desk. He titled the front "Charlie's pad" and flicked it open to the first page, scribbling down a list of ingredients as they came to mind. "Chocolate - white. Hazelnuts. Cream…" muttered Charlie. He looked up briefly - supposing someone was listening to him? He couldn't allow anyone to overhear and steal his idea… Charlie put down his pen and took a breath. Much as he was desperate to become the world's second-best chocolatier (he had a feeling he'd never surpass the great Willy Wonka), he had no desire to become as nutty as the man himself. Calmly, Charlie continued to list ingredients for his new candy and even sketched a design for the wrapper. Perfect.

Charlie rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch. Six-thirty. Plenty of time for a few preliminary experiments. He stood and crossed over to a lab bench, pulling a large mixing pot in front of him and signalling to an Oompa-Loompa to come over.

"I need these ingredients - okay?" said Charlie. "Bring them over and then when everything's here you can leave for the evening." The Oompa-Loompa read the list, his eyes widening as he read one of the ingredients. He raised his eyebrows at Charlie. "Yes, I know it's unusual, but it is necessary. Thanks," he finished firmly. He bowed to the Oompa-Loompa, who returned the gesture before scurrying off to collect the necessary items. Charlie turned back to the bench and turned on the hotplate. "Time to get inventing," he whispered, his eyes gleaming as he added chocolate to the pot in front of him.

That evening, exhausted from an exceedingly good breakfast, lunch and dinner and too much dancing, Rosanna fell back against a tree away from the main group and gasped for breath. Willy joined her, his violet eyes wide with excitement.

"What's wrong?"

"Tired," answered Rosanna quietly. She smiled wearily at Willy. "I had no idea the wedding ceremonies were so - active."

"You should see the initiation ceremony - it lasts fourteen hours and there are no feasts during that ritual."

"How do you know?"

"I went through it. A few months after first meeting the chief. That's when I was accepted into the tribe as an honorary journeyman and one of the reasons they agreed to travel with me."

"So what did you have to do?"

"I'll tell you another time," avoided Willy with a grin. He ran a hand through his hair, frowning as his gloves snagged on the tangles. Willy gave Rosanna a lopsided look as he sighed. "I suppose we'd better be going. The celebrations will go on well into the night, but I'm getting sleepy too," he finished with a suppressed yawn, standing and offering his hand to Rosanna.

"Okay. Should we say goodbye?"

"Nah, let's not disturb them," said Willy, gesturing to the still-dancing Oompa-Loompas. Rosanna and Willy walked silently, hand-in-hand back to the elevator. Rosanna stole a few glances at the few inches of neck exposed at Willy's throat - at some point in the proceedings, his collar and top buttons had been undone in order that he may dance more freely. Willy noticed her fixation as they stepped into the elevator and raised a hand protectively in front of his neck. He shut the elevator door with his right hand and tried to nonchalantly button up his shirt with his left, fumbling a little as he was right-handed.

"Did the Oompa-Loompas have a look at the elevator?" asked Rosanna, looking away through the glass into the bowels of the factory.

"Yes. But I'd hold on anyway." Willy pressed the button for his apartments and braced himself against the rail for the impending rush of speed. The elevator gave a sharp jerk - then glided slowly upwards.

"Oh - I can live with that!" laughed Rosanna, releasing her grip on the rail. Willy waited another second or so before relaxing fully, folding his hands in front of him.

"Did you enjoy yourself today?" asked Willy, curious as to whether or not he should include Rosanna in further trips to the village.

"Yes. They are a truly amazing race. I wish that I could understand them."

"I could teach you if you like," said Willy shyly, his head tilted downwards. "In return for the swimming lessons in the New Year."

"That would be - nice. Thanks," replied Rosanna. She ran a hand over the back of her neck, realising that the day's exertions had coated her skin in a patina of sweat, the briny liquid acting as hairspray at the base of her skull, the hair there stiff and damp. "Ew," muttered Rosanna.

"What's up?" asked Willy.

"My hair is horrible - must have been all the dancing. I need a shower." She raised an eyebrow as Willy leaned forward experimentally and sniffed her hair.

"You're right - you do."

"You're not so fresh yourself," teased Rosanna. "Mr. I've been dancing for the last three hours non-stop after eating spicy food."

"I'll have you know that I smell only of peanuts. Grandma Georgina said so herself." Willy gave an arrogant snort and looked out of the elevator, sneaking a quick sniff under one arm as Rosanna turned away shaking her head. Hmm, maybe she was right…

"What time is it?" asked Rosanna with a yawn. Willy pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at the dial.

"Eight-thirty. I was hoping we could have a chat." Willy suddenly became very interested in his gloves and it was Rosanna who broke the silence.

"About what?"

"I'd rather not discuss it in here."

"Why not?"

"Too open," said Willy, looking at the walls of the glass box they were standing in.

"Fair enough." Rosanna sidled slowly up to Willy and ran a hand around his waist, stroking the damp fabric of his shirt as she looked up to his face. "No rush," she purred. Willy swallowed as a rush of blood to his head made him feel a little dizzy.

"Don't hug me - I'm icky," said Willy, more concerned about the fact his heart was hammering at double-speed.

"I don't care," whispered Rosanna, reaching up and pulling Willy's face to hers. As she kissed him, she ran her hands over his back, knowing that tomorrow he would be clad once again in waistcoat and overcoat. His ribs were apparent even through the fabric and Rosanna felt Willy squirm as she playfully tapped those at his waist, tickling him. Willy pulled away and drew breath.

"You're icky too," said Willy, his hands still resting on her waist as he inhaled her scent. "Rosanna, I…" Willy stopped himself. Now wasn't the time to ask her how she felt about him. That was far too serious a discussion to start in the same breath as the word 'icky.' He dipped his head down and put his forehead to Rosanna's, licking his lips as he did so. The salty tang he tasted stirred an instinct too long ignored and he pulled Rosanna sharply to his chest as he kissed her again. Willy groaned softly as Rosanna ran her nails down his back, the tingling sensation running up and down his spine.

"Rosanna," moaned Willy softly as the kiss was broken.

"Yes darling?" She looked up at his pained expression and knew that her ploy to get him to enjoy her attentions was starting to pay dividends.

"W-W-What was that?" stuttered Willy, suppressing his racing heart and struggling for breath. The elevator was suddenly far too hot and Rosanna's proximity was not helping matters. He pushed her away gently.

"Just a hug," replied Rosanna innocently. Perhaps she'd have to calm herself a little. Willy was clearly not in the mood to play. Rosanna and Willy, now a respectable distance apart, maintained searing eye contact.

"It was a nice hug," said Willy. "I like your nails." For a few minutes neither spoke, the whooshing of the elevator on its rails as it continued on its way the only sound. Soon enough, the elevator arrived at Willy's room. "Oh, I did this in the wrong order - I should have taken you back first." Willy reached over to hit the button for Rosanna's guestroom, but was stopped by Rosanna as she laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"You said you wanted to talk." She lifted her hand and stroked Willy's face gently. "No excuses tonight - I want to know what's wrong." Willy nodded and led the way into his room. Rosanna hit the light-switch as she passed and walked over to the sofa to take a seat. Willy, on the other hand, walked over to the window and rested his head gently against the cold glass, his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

"I have come to a decision, no, that's not it at all," muttered Willy, fading into incoherency. How was he to ask Rosanna how she felt about him without revealing his feelings for her in the process?

"A decision about what?" asked Rosanna, standing and crossing to Willy's side.

"Not a decision. A realisation," covered Willy as the gears of his mind whirred into overdrive. "I suddenly realised that I've been allowing you to kiss me - and stuff - and…" he scrunched up his eyes as he fought for the right words. "And I don't even know how you feel about me," he finished. _Don't ask any awkward questions_, _please,_ he added mentally.

"I'm very attached to you Willy, you know that. I care for you deeply. You're a very attractive man and can you really blame me for wanting to spend my time with you?" asked Rosanna, running her hand up Willy's chest. He looked down and saw a cheeky smile playing on Rosanna's lips. Gently, Willy raised a hand to cup Rosanna's chin.

"Thanks for being honest." Willy cuddled Rosanna to his chest and fought tears. _I don't believe it - she doesn't love me, _thought Willy. _That was the perfect opportunity for her to tell me and she didn't! It was her idea to get together and she - she… _He drifted off, eyes closed, listening to his own enraged heart beating strongly against the unfairness of it all. So engrossed was he in his own misery that he did not notice Rosanna's contented sigh.

Rosanna was in her own private heaven. She clung to Willy's shirt and for once felt that here they were at last, a man and a woman, locked in an embrace and a moment that should end only in a night of passion. _Or at least a lingering kiss,_ edited Rosanna's inner pedant. She breathed in Willy's scent and nuzzled further into his shirt. She felt the last of her tension ebb away as Willy's arms tightened around her shoulders. _I'd forgotten. Thank you, Willy, my darling. I'd forgotten how wonderful it is to be in love._ She smiled and looked up at Willy, shocked to see he'd been crying.

"What's up?" asked Rosanna.

"Nothing sweetheart, nothing," said Willy, forcing a smile.

"Don't lie."

"Ros, I'm just tired."

"Willy please!"

"Good night honey." Willy regretfully pushed Rosanna away and looked down into her eyes.

"I am not leaving until you tell me what you wanted to talk about tonight." To emphasise her point, Rosanna plunked down on the end of the sofa and crossed her arms at Willy.

"Then I will," said Willy, obtrusively, walking over to the elevator. Rosanna was too quick for him however and caught his arm before he could escape.

"I'm not letting you get away with this, Willy Wonka. You will tell me what's wrong!" Willy's eyes flicked to Rosanna's face and he saw that her eyes were blazing, anger apparent behind her calm mask.

"Now why would you want to know a thing like that?" asked Willy quietly.

"Because I…" Rosanna was interrupted by a wail of a siren and she clasped her hands over her ears to block out the noise. She looked up to an otherwise inoffensive small, brown box stuck above the portal for the elevator that was currently emitting the high-pitched, insistent sound. Willy, protecting his ears in a similar fashion, crossed over to a painting on the wall and lifted it gingerly with his right hand, leaning his head into his shoulder to protect his unshielded right ear. Behind the painting, Rosanna could see a panel with flashing lights. Willy keyed in a code and the siren stopped, but the lights continued flashing.

"Inventing Room," muttered Willy. "I have to go."

"I'm coming with you."

"No - get the Bucket family out. There's a fire. We'll use the stairwell - come on!" Willy reached for Rosanna's hand and dragged her out of the door, heart hammering as he raced for the stairwell. _Fire_. It wasn't the first time of course, but it was the first time a fire had broken out when he hadn't been there to start it. Perhaps one of the Oompa-Loompas had had an accident, or maybe one of the machines had malfunctioned. Countless theories ran through his mind as he pulled Rosanna down the spiral staircase. As they ran past the other rooms, Rosanna heard the same siren sounds from within the rooms - obviously, Willy had turned the speaker off in his room in order to talk to her.

"Can't we use the elevator?" shouted Rosanna over the siren.

"No - the portals seal when a fire occurs and can't be immediately controlled by the sprinkler system. If we take the elevator down to the Inventing Room and open the portal, the flames will shoot up the shaft and be drawn upwards like in a chimney fire. Must get there by stairs…" Willy drew breath and quickened his pace. _Damn these heeled boots! Need to get there faster!_ Rosanna trotted along after Willy as best she could, not entirely sure where she was. She was so intent on moving quickly that she did not notice Willy stop at a junction in the corridors and slammed straight into him. She hauled herself to her feet and looked up apologetically at Willy.

"Where now?" she asked.

"Straight down that corridor, then take a left, right, then left onto the main hallway. Get the Buckets out and do not come back inside until I call you."

"Willy - will you be alright?"

"Go now!" shouted Willy, turning on his heels and heading up the corridor in the opposite direction. Rosanna hesitated for a brief moment before following Willy's instructions.

Willy found the expected group of Oompa-Loompa fire officers clustered around the door as he reached the Inventing Room. Ordinarily, if a fire broke out, the sprinkler system would extinguish it in seconds. He had installed the siren system just in case the sprinklers ever failed in order that the factory would be cleared as soon as possible in the event of a truly catastrophic fire. The sirens in the rooms behind him continued their mocking warning. _His Inventing Room… There would have been workers in there… _Willy lay a hand on the Inventing Room door and felt the heat through the metal. He withdrew the hand quickly. _His life's work… Supposing the whole factory went up?_ Panic took hold and Willy turned to the Oompa-Loompas who were even now suiting up in heat-proof uniforms.

"Anyone in there?" An Oompa-Loompa holding a tiny fire-axe shook his head, but then a shriek from the far end of the corridor pulled Willy's attention to the top of the corridor. An Oompa-Loompa dressed in the silver Inventing Room uniform was racing towards the room, shrieking as he ran and waving frantically to Willy. The Inventing Room Oompa-Loompa caught Willy's trouser leg and pulled it frantically; the chocolatier leaned down and lowered his head. His eyes widened as the Oompa-Loompa whispered in his ear. Willy stood up and lay his hand back on the door.  
"Charlie…"

Outside the factory, Rosanna helped Mr Bucket to aid Grandma Georgina in descending the factory steps. Grandpa Joe and Grandpa George were already outside, huddled in their winter coats against the chill December night. Mrs Bucket was helping her mother to stand, clinging to her as she bit her lip in worry.

"Charlie," whimpered Mrs Bucket. "Where are you?" Rosanna looked back worriedly at the factory - black smoke was pouring from the right hand side out of the air vents for the Inventing Room. A door opened and a stream of Oompa-Loompas poured out in a variety of coloured jumpsuits. Still more were dressed only in furs or leaves and Rosanna picked out the wedding couple still dressed in white. Only the fire crew was still inside the building - and, of course, Willy and Charlie.

"Please be okay," whispered Rosanna. "Both of you."

Willy took shelter as the door to the Inventing Room was broken down, a roar of flames spurting out of the doorway as the oxygen mixed with the inferno. The sprinklers in the corridors and surrounding rooms had started automatically to prevent the fire spreading and the water rained down on the corridor floor, splashing in deep puddles all around the chocolatier. Willy heard the all-clear and poked his head around the corner in time to see Oompa-Loompas in breathing gear head into the Inventing Room with large fire hoses to quench the flames. Cautiously, he walked forward to the doorway, but was beaten back by the heat. He sank to the floor and put a hand to his forehead. _How had this happened?_ A clink of glass indicated that something else had broken inside the Inventing Room. Sodden from the sprinkler system, Willy cried out as a muffled thump from inside the room ahead of him sounded out. The flames were dying out, steam and black smoke taking the place of the orange glow in the hall. An Oompa-Loompa tried to tell Willy he needed to get out into the fresh air.

"No - get me a mask." The Oompa-Loompa shook his head. "I'm going in there regardless - so if you want to help, get me a mask!" The Oompa-Loompa scurried off, returning endless minutes later and handing Willy the largest oxygen mask he could find. Holding the tank in one hand, clutching the mask to his face with the other, Willy headed into the Inventing Room.

A charred and mangled room greeted Willy. The fire had destroyed every machine and all of the notebooks, but those were material things easily replaced as far as Willy was concerned. He peered through the gloom and tried to find Charlie. There was no sign of the boy. Willy spied something huddled in the corner under a fallen desk and ran over to investigate, dropping his mask and the oxygen tank as he did so. Willy pulled at the scrap of cloth visible underneath the desk and Charlie's rucksack flew into his hands. Willy held it to his chest and started sobbing.

"Where are you squirt?" cried Willy. "Where are you?"

Charlie kicked out with his legs and felt what was possibly a riverbank underneath his feet. He raised his head and gulped the sweet, chocolaty air above the river and half-staggered, half-swam to shore in the chocolate room. Pulling himself onto the bank, he rolled onto his back and gasped for air. He was exhausted. When the pot he'd been experimenting with had started spitting, Charlie had turned the hotplate off but for some inexplicable reason the mixture had continued heating up. Just as the mixture went critical Charlie, who had backed away and was now pressed against the door to the chocolate river, threw open the door and plunged into the river. He was vaguely aware of the dull thud as the blast slammed the river-door shut as he hit the warm chocolate and started to swim for his life… But that had been several minutes ago. Possibly hours, given how tired his legs were. Charlie spread-eagled on the soft swudge and, despite the wailing siren overhead, passed into a dreamless sleep.

Rosanna paced up and down outside the factory, worried sick for both Willy and Charlie. The sirens had summoned a crowd from the town outside the walls and she was aware of the curious faces pressed against the metal gates. Occasionally, someone would comment on the Oompa-Loompas, who were now huddled in small groups against the cold, but for those who had just evacuated from the factory, there were more important matters at hand. An hour had passed since Rosanna had last seen Willy - suppose something had happened to him as well? And what about Charlie? She looked over to the now hysterical Mrs Bucket clinging to her husband's chest and suppressed a terrified wail. She couldn't allow herself to lose control now - that would not help anyone.

Ten more minutes passed. The local press had got wind that something was amiss at the Wonka factory and were gathered outside the gates, camera flashes firing in the night as reporters tried to capture their own take on the events. The factory doors opened and Willy ran out, looking blackened and exhausted. Several of the Oompa-Loompa fire crew ran out and headed to the Oompa-Loompas gathered outside, gesturing that the fire was out and that they could all go back inside. Willy ran over to Mr and Mrs Bucket and caught them in a hug before starting to cry.

"What is it?" asked Mr Bucket in a hollow voice, suspecting the worst.

"He's alright - we found him wandering in the Chocolate Room. He had been experimenting in the Inventing Room and it went wrong. He got out before the fire started. He's in the house - go to him." Willy backed away, his hands covering his face. The Oompa-Loompas helped the Bucket family back into the factory as Willy kneeled on the cold pavement and heaved into sobs. Rosanna crossed to him and slipped an arm around his back. Willy shrugged it off irritably.

"Not now," he growled.

"What did I do?" asked Rosanna.

"Do you know why Charlie was in the Inventing Room on his own?"

"No."

"He told me just now when we found him. He was trying to do my job. Because I haven't been." Willy looked up at Rosanna with accusing eyes. "Because I've spent all my time with you instead of in that room coming up with new ideas, he thought it was time he took over. He was jealous of you," spat Willy.

"Willy, I'm sorry." Rosanna wasn't quite sure that this was her fault, but now was not the time to argue her case. "Let's go inside."

"Fine," said Willy coldly, standing and striding off towards the factory door. Rosanna followed him, slipping in through the door just before Willy slammed it shut behind him.

"Willy please - listen to me - it's not your fault."

"Yes it is," hissed Willy, heading for the Chocolate Room door. "I should never have abandoned my work for so long while I wasted time on a whim." He carried on up the corridor and paused after a few moments when he realised Rosanna was no longer following him. He turned to see Rosanna standing forlornly in the middle of the hallway, tears already pricking at her eyes.

"Is that all I am to you? A whim?" Willy blinked slowly and reconsidered his previous statement.

"No."

"Then why did you say that?" cried Rosanna.

"We don't have time for this - I need to see Charlie. I'd appreciate it if you went to bed." Willy turned and headed into the Chocolate Room, a lump in his throat. Rosanna felt stabbing pains in her stomach as Willy's callous words echoed in her head. _Wasted time. Whim._ She ran towards the stairwell and headed upstairs, tears blinding her as she tried to remember the route Charlie had led her on during her first night at the factory.

Charlie sat up in his grandparents' bed, being hugged from all sides by members of his family. He sipped at the hot chocolate his mother handed him and grinned gratefully at her as she checked his temperature for the hundredth time.

"Mum, I'm okay," said Charlie.

"I have to be sure," mumbled Mrs Bucket. The door clicked open behind her and Willy entered, looking bedraggled and worried. He walked directly to the bed and kneeled down, resting a hand on Charlie's knee.

"How are you?" asked Willy.

"Fine Mr Wonka - I'm so sorry! Mum told me that everyone had to leave the factory. How's the Inventing Room?"

"Utterly destroyed."

"I'm sorry, Mr Wonka," said Charlie, biting his lip. "I bet you must hate me for blowing it up."

"What happened Charlie?"

"I thought it would be interesting to see what fizzy lifting chocolate would be like and I added some fizzy lifting drinks to the candy I was making. I don't know why it went wrong."

"Fizzy lifting drinks aren't stable at high temperatures. I must have forgotten to tell you," muttered Willy. "I'm sorry Charlie. I've been concentrating on Rosanna too much - I should have spent more time with you."

"No - don't blame her, Mr Wonka, it's my fault. I was feeling jealous and that's why I was in the Inventing Room trying to impress you."

"You don't need to try and impress me Charlie. You've already done that."

"I know. Tell Rosanna I'm sorry - it's not her fault and I bet when she finds out she'll think it is." Charlie hung his head as he realised his behaviour over the last week or so had been completely irrational. "I'm sorry if I've messed anything up."

"You haven't. Just helped put things in perspective that's all." Willy stood up. "I have to make one thing clear though Charlie."

"What?"

"You are never, under any circumstances, to work in any of the factory rooms alone again, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." Willy nodded and stood up.

"I have to go. I don't wish to intrude." He backed out of the house and walked over to the elevator portal, not altogether surprised when the "out of service" light flashed up. Reluctantly, he walked to the door and headed into the hallway, intent on apologising for one very stupid and hurtful comment.

Rosanna tore open her wardrobe and pulled her clothes out in between violent fits of tears. She'd thought that they'd been making progress, that he was starting to feel the same way about her. She loved him - had for some time now - and yet he considered her a waste of time. Perhaps their moment had ended. Rosanna punched her clothing into her tattered suitcase on the bed and angrily wiped her tears. A tentative knock at the door interrupted her.

"Go away!" shouted Rosanna, aware that the words sounded strained.

"Rosanna, it's me, please let me in," begged Willy's voice. "I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. We need to talk."

"We always need to talk Willy - and you never do!" shouted Rosanna, walking over to the door and gesturing to it wildly as she spoke. "You never give me the chance to get close and help you, then you have the nerve to blame this mess tonight on me."

"Open the door!" demanded Willy.

"No!"

"Fine," answered Willy, a dull thud indicating he'd hit the door in temper. As Rosanna stormed back to the bed, the door opened behind her. She turned, her tear-streaked face regarding Willy.

"How did you do that?"

"It wasn't locked," answered Willy. "I just thought it would be polite to ask first." He walked forward and closed the door behind him.

"Yet you still barged in."

"You were obviously not in the mood for being polite," said Willy with a shrug. His calm demeanour healed some of Rosanna's angst and she took a steadying breath before continuing.

"Why are you here?"

"To apologise for implying that you were next to nothing to me."

"Thank you."

"You didn't deserve that - I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"That was quite clear," snarled Rosanna. She regarded Willy's hurt expression and checked herself. "I understand it's been a long day," said Rosanna quietly, the last of her anger draining.

"It's my fault - I think that I need to be sensible and limit the amount of time we spend together - or at least build in some time for Charlie."

"Of course, if that's what you want."

"He's special to me Rosanna - obviously in a different way than you, but I need to pay him some attention as well. He's my heir and apprentice - he needs to feel included. Not shut out. Maybe you should spend some time with him too," added Willy, looking down at his sooty gloves as he finished speaking. He'd blurted out everything he had prepared to say to her on his way upstairs - the rest would be up to her now.

"If you think that would help," said Rosanna hesitantly.

"I do," replied Willy with a small smile. He walked over to Rosanna to pull her into a hug, but stopped when he saw the luggage on the bed. His smile froze. "Going somewhere?"

"I… You offended me, so I..."

"Thought you'd leave me forever," said Willy, his head turning to one side as he stared blankly ahead. "Now why is this familiar?"

"Willy, obviously I'm not going to leave now..."

"No, please, don't let me stop you," Willy went on with a polite tone. "If not today, then it will happen another time I speak without thinking."

"Willy, it won't - I'm sorry, I was just being dramatic. I'm not going anywhere."

"But you will one day."

"I won't - I promise."

"You've said that before." Willy walked over to the bed and gently folded a blouse into the suitcase. "You need to pack more carefully - you'll ruin your clothes like this." Rosanna darted around the bed and took Willy's hands in her own.

"Stop it."

"Why? I want you to have clothes - these clothes - wherever you are. I don't want them spoiled," his voice was quieter now, and a higher pitch - almost childlike - and his eyes were wide open, staring blankly ahead.

"I'm so sorry - I'm not going anywhere!" Rosanna tipped the suitcase upside down, spilling the contents over the bed. "See! Willy, please…" begged Rosanna, holding Willy's forearms. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to go."

"I won't."

"How do I know that's true?" asked Willy. "I can't keep waiting for you to walk out every time we have a spat."

"I won't."

"How can I be sure?" Willy's eyes misted up and he looked back at Rosanna.

"I love you," whispered Rosanna. "And because I love you, I can't go anywhere." She pulled Willy into her chest and snaked her arms around his back. "I'd have probably stopped before I got to the main doors anyway," she added with a forced laugh. _Probably sooner,_ she thought, _if you hadn't come in, I doubt I would even have finished packing. _She felt Willy's hands on her shoulders pushing her gently away and looked up at his grimy, soot-smutted face. "What's wrong?"

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"What do you mean?"

"You waffled on about caring and attachment and attractiveness, but you never said..."

"Never said what?"

"That you… that you love me," said Willy, a faraway look in his eyes and a gentle smile on his lips.

"Didn't you guess?"

"Nuh-uh." Willy permitted himself a broad grin. "Even geniuses are allowed to be a little dim sometimes." He stroked his hands down from her shoulders to her elbows and back again.

"Only sometimes?" asked Rosanna with a shy smile.

"Yep." Willy hesitantly lowered his head and nipped at Rosanna's bottom lip. He smiled as Rosanna's head tilted upwards anticipating the kiss and pecked at her lip twice more before backing off.

"Don't tease." Rosanna pouted and fluttered her eyelashes at Willy.

"Rosanna."

"Yes?" Willy paused to take a steadying breath in order to steel himself for what he knew he had to say.

"I love you too." Willy ran a hand through Rosanna's hair and pulled her to him, kissing her. As they parted, Willy looked down into Rosanna's eyes and smiled. "I shall see you in the morning, darling"

"Hey, you don't get away that easily," giggled Rosanna, pushing Willy backwards until he fell onto the bed. She jumped up and straddled him easily, plunging down and pressing her lips to his as he tried to protest.

"Want to bet on that?" replied Willy as Rosanna moved away, pushing her off and grabbing at her hands, prising them off his shoulders and rolling her onto her back. He rolled with her, pinning her to the bed with her arms above her head, his nose only an inch from hers. Rosanna's eyes flicked from Willy's eyes to his lips as a few moments passed. Nervously, Rosanna licked her lips, Willy following the movement with his eyes. Impulsively, Willy kissed her - softly at first, but with increasing intensity as the kiss continued. Suddenly aware of the movement of her body underneath his, Willy sprang to his feet with a nervous laugh.

"Well, goodnight!" said Willy, nodding briefly to Rosanna and darting to the door.

"Goodnight Willy," called Rosanna, watching as the chocolatier fairly ran from her room. She sighed and relaxed back on her bed, a smile playing on her lips.

* * *

**Read it? Please review it! I'm sorry it's been a while between updates, but I'd love to know how many people are still reading! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and to the wonderful Wonkamatic for beta'ing. Go read her fic- Why Does it Feel Like it's Raining? - for a fantastic take on Willy's psyche.**

**Now that you've read this chapter (and posted your review ;-)) go and read Hard Candy by Martian Aries, which ended today to rapturous applause. It's rather good.**


	21. A Very Wonka Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas…

Actually, it was several nights before Christmas and Rosanna was starting to panic. She usually bought her Christmas presents weeks in advance to avoid the usual glut of shoppers in the final days before Christmas and the gifts she bought were usually inconsequential and of the 'box of chocolates' or 'smellies' variety. This year was different - she had a number of people she actually cared about and needed to buy gifts for and yet it was now the 20th and she still hadn't bought Willy's present. True, she'd managed to buy gifts for all the Bucket family and even Dr Wonka was going to be the happy recipient of an ugly tie and a bottle of the finest French cognac. However, Willy Wonka was proving harder to buy for than his reclusive father. Socks just didn't seem to fit the bill. Nor did any of the other more traditional gifts to give to your partner. Rosanna was tempted to give him some underwear, but wasn't quite sure whether Willy would react favourably to a pair of tacky boxers emblazoned with the words "Warning: Contains Nuts."

She sighed into her hot chocolate and stared gloomily out of the window at the darkening world outside. Even the sweet chocolate couldn't lift her worry - what would he think if she didn't get him something for Christmas? Yet every idea she had was less appropriate than the last. He was a multi-millionaire - every possible item he might want was already in the factory somewhere. Rosanna drained the mug of chocolate and frowned. Perhaps she would go for the silk boxer shorts. But she'd get a 'nice' pair and not the obscene ones she'd seen earlier in the shops. This left her with just one problem. She wasn't sure whether Willy did wear boxer shorts or briefs and it wasn't as if she could just _ask_ him. That would be too obvious. And she didn't know his clothing size. She nodded to herself as she came to her decision - it would be at least another hour before Willy would be back from the Inventing Room and she'd long ago been granted access to his rooms. All she had to do was invade Willy's bedroom, have a quick peek through his underwear drawer to find his size and underwear preferences and she'd at least be halfway to a decent present for him. Willy had already told her the arrangements for Christmas - the Buckets, both Wonka men and Rosanna would be spending the day in the Chocolate Room. Rosanna didn't think Willy could cope with opening underwear in front of his father so she would also be purchasing a less risqué gift for him to open in front of the Bucket family. Dr Wonka had only raised an eyebrow at the news Rosanna would be teaching Willy how to swim in the New Year, but it had been enough for the chocolatier to reconsider the idea. _That's it! _Rosanna was hit with a flash of inspiration and scribbled a note to herself that she quickly tucked into her jeans pocket. Okay, that was the main present sorted, now for operation find out Willy's pants size…

Rosanna crept stealthily down the corridor. She couldn't hear any signs of life. Turning the doorknob slowly, she pressed through the doorway and closed the door behind her.

"Willy, are you here?" called Rosanna softly. She crept forward to the bathroom and pushed the door open - no-one was home. "Here goes," said Rosanna, trotting over to the chest of drawers and pulling open the top drawer. About a hundred pairs of identical purple socks greeted her. "Well, I found out his favourite colour at least." She shut the drawer and pulled open the next one. This was filled with red socks. She shut it and hesitantly opened the next one. "Black!" The final drawer held an assortment of different coloured socks, some covered in festive designs while others were boring and plain. "My lover has a sock fixation," muttered Rosanna, pushing the drawer closed. A click behind her made her jump and she turned slowly to see the door opening. Adrenaline suggested hiding and Rosanna ran over to the bed and slid underneath the skirting sheet just as footsteps entered the room. She could see a clear inch under the ruffled sheet and watched as a pair of black high-heeled boots circled the bed. She held her breath and heard Willy drop something onto the bed - it sounded like his coat. In the quiet void under the bed, Rosanna listened as Willy paced the room before crossing to his dressing table and muttering under his breath. She heard a thud and jumped, freezing instantly and hoping she hadn't been heard. Willy hadn't noticed however and Rosanna heard him give an irritated sigh.

"Why is this so difficult?" asked Willy to the room in general. "It's only three gosh darn lines! I'll never finish this poem by Christmas!" Footsteps approached the bed and the wooden slats creaked ominously as Willy threw himself onto the bed above Rosanna. "I'll finish it in the morning." From the creaking sound, Willy was making himself comfortable. With any luck he'd move soon and she'd be able to flee. They had a date in just over an hour and she knew he wouldn't forget. She hoped he wouldn't forget - the wooden floor was hard and uncomfortable.

At least ten minutes passed and Willy once again shifted position on the bed before sitting on the end and removing his boots, the heels crashing loudly right next to Rosanna's head. Willy stood (he was wearing black socks today, Rosanna discovered from her letterbox view on the room) and from the sounds of zips and rustling fabric, he was getting undressed. Rosanna gave a lecherous smile - maybe she'd be able to pull back the sheet just a little to sneak a peek. She decided against this and lay still, knowing that when Willy went for his shower she would have the perfect opportunity to escape. Willy was starting to hum to himself and Rosanna stifled a giggle. From the heap of clothes on the floor, now would be a particularly bad time to be discovered. The dust under the bed was seriously starting to irritate her however…

"Achoo!" sneezed Rosanna. She heard Willy draw in a quick breath.

"Who's there?" asked Willy in a terrified voice. Rosanna considered staying put, but knew instinctively that this was not an option. She shuffled out under the far side of the bed. "I warn you, I'm armed!" said Willy. Rosanna stood, brushed down her jeans and turned around, suppressing a laugh as she did so. There, clad only in bright blue, cotton boxer shorts and a top hat, holding his cane at arms length, was the "armed and dangerous" Willy Wonka. Willy lowered the candy cane. "Rosanna?"

"Hi Willy," said Rosanna, raising a hand to wave. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Why are you here?"

"Just checking something." Rosanna fixed her eyes on Willy's hat, not daring to look down. That was one question answered anyway. And if she kept the receipt it wouldn't matter if she bought the wrong size.

"Oh. Under my bed?"

"Mmm-hmmm. I was just going."

"Okay." Willy watched as Rosanna, taking a final, slow look at his torso, left the room, smiling to herself as she did so. Willy stood stock still for a moment, then looked down. He was… not fully clothed. He had… been seen in this state by Rosanna. He was now… very embarrassed. Willy let out a pained moan and ran into the bathroom.

Half an hour later, Willy knocked gently at Rosanna's bedroom door. She answered it quickly, as if she had been waiting by the door for his arrival. This was, in fact, the case. Willy took in Rosanna's appearance - she had changed into a light green top and a sweeping, emerald green skirt.

"Hi," whispered Willy. "Okay if I come in?"

"Yeah, of course. How long before we have to be at the restaurant?"

"Twenty minutes, plenty of time," answered Willy quietly, shutting the door behind him. "Why were you in my room and why were you hiding under the bed?"

"I needed to check something. Something for your Christmas present. And I didn't want to spoil the surprise so I hid when you came in."

"My Christmas present? You've bought me a Christmas present?"

"Of course."

"Thanks. But what was it you needed to check?"

"That would spoil the surprise!"

"Ow," scowled Willy, pouting slightly. "Okay. About you um, seeing me in the um…"

"Underpants."

"Yeah. Could you possibly forget what you saw?" mumbled Willy, fiddling with his gloves and biting his lip.

"Now why would I want to do a thing like that?" asked Rosanna jokingly, slipping her arms around Willy's waist.

"Well, it's not right, you seeing me like that. It's embarrassing."

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about." Rosanna stood on tiptoe and kissed Willy's lips gently. "You look great."

"But I wasn't dressed and it's just asking for trouble if you see me like that!"

"What kind of trouble?" purred Rosanna. Willy's mouth went dry as Rosanna circled her arms more tightly around his back.

"I…"

"Hush now," instructed Rosanna, pulling Willy's head down to hers for a kiss. Willy trembled slightly as the kiss ended, a look of utter confusion on his face.

"Rosanna, I don't know how or why you're doing this but please, please…"

"Stop and make sure we get to the restaurant on time?"

"Yeah," gasped Willy, following Rosanna gratefully as she swept out of the room. "For a moment there, I was quite worried we were going to be late."

* * *

The Christmas tree, decorated in several miles of tinsel and trimmings, perched precariously on its stand outside the Bucket house. It was the first time Charlie had decorated a tree larger than himself and he'd taken great delight in festooning the branches with so many baubles and lights that Grandpa Joe was sure that the poor tree creaked under the weight. Willy and Rosanna stopped briefly to admire it before bursting into the Bucket house late on Christmas Eve.

"Hi there!" said Willy with a broad smile.

"Hello everyone," chimed in Rosanna. The Bucket family acknowledged their entrance with a series of greetings and Mrs Bucket walked over with a tray of mice pies.

"Where's your father dear?" asked Mrs Bucket as Willy picked up two mince pies and proceeded to take a large bite out of the first one. Rosanna answered for him.

"He's upstairs - we only just got back and he's quite tired after the journey."

"He will be down tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, of course," mumbled Willy through a mouthful of pie. "We will all be here, bright and early. We're just here to find out what time you'd like us to come down."

"Eight should be early enough - since Charlie stopped believing in Santa we don't get up at the crack of dawn anymore."

"Okay," said Willy. "Can I take some more of these please?" he begged, pointing at the plate. Mrs Bucket nodded 'yes' and Willy stacked six more mince pies into his hand before smiling broadly and leaving the house with a curt nod.

"Sorry - he hadn't had any mince pies before yours and now he's fixating on them," explained Rosanna. "He wouldn't leave his father's house until he'd made sure the old man wasn't hiding any from him. I think the holiday's finally got to him," she finished with a sigh. As Mrs Bucket laughed, Rosanna gave a light smile and waved her goodbyes before running off after Willy.

"Willy - wait up!" shouted Rosanna, darting over the swudge towards the elevator. "You have to stop eating those - you are going to make yourself ill."

"I won't," mumbled Willy, "I promise." He swallowed the mouthful and took a breath. "You're quite sure that no-one has been near my Tomacco Room?"

"Yes," sighed Rosanna. "Willy, we need to get back to our rooms. I'm tired and I can't wait until morning!"

"Okay," said Willy, reaching up and pressing the call button for Rosanna's room. A few moments later, they arrived and Rosanna stepped out of the elevator.

"Well, goodnight," she said, waiting expectantly for her kiss.

"Sleep well darling," replied Willy, kissing her. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas honey," answered Rosanna, crossing her hands behind her back and smiling as Willy stepped back into the elevator, pressed the button for his room and disappeared from view. "And now, to work…" she said quietly.

In the gloom of the corridor outside Willy Wonka's room, a shadowy figure applied a few squirts of oil to the hinges of his door to prevent any sound. The door opened slowly and silently a few moments later. A black gloved hand put down a can of oil next to the doorway and a skinny, black-clad figure slipped through the gap and into the room pausing briefly to listen to the rhythmic sound of the chocolatier's breathing. Moving silently and in a crablike fashion, the figure crossed to the end of Willy's bed and tied something to the bedpost. The intruder walked quietly up to the head of the bed and leaned over to examine Willy's still sleeping form before planting a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Merry Christmas Willy," whispered the intruder, smiling as she saw Willy's left eye twitch. She stood and was about to leave when the apparently still-sleeping chocolatier reached out and grabbed her hand.

"Rosanna?" The figure froze and was helpless to resist when Willy pulled her over and into an embrace. Willy opened his eyes and smiled at Rosanna's moonlit form. "Come to check on something else?" he asked coquettishly, pulling Rosanna onto the bed next to him.

"I… Well I…"

"Hush now," growled Willy, kissing Rosanna and running his hands up her back. He laughed and broke the kiss in doing so. "What's with the ninja gear?"

"Didn't want to be seen." Rosanna was aware that her plan to sneak into Willy's room to deliver his Christmas present and then sneak out again had gone spectacularly wrong, though she wasn't sure she minded too much.

"Rosanna?"

"Yes?"

"Merry Christmas." Willy kissed Rosanna again, persisting until he felt her tremble under his touch. "Oh Willy!" gasped Rosanna, her heart racing as he released her. "That was most unexpected!"

"Goodnight darling." Willy snuggled back onto his pillow, his arms still around Rosanna. She shuffled into a more comfortable position and rested her head next to Willy's on the pillow.

"Goodnight honey."

Willy awoke with a jolt, and with an undignified yawn stretched out his arms. A few moments of oblivion passed quickly as he remembered that today, why, today was Christmas Day! Another recollection hit him and he reached over to his right for Rosanna. His hand brushed an empty pillow, his questing fingers finally closing around a thin envelope. Willy sat up, a little disappointed that Rosanna had not stayed for the whole night - he hadn't wanted to wake up alone this morning. He wasn't sure why he'd felt so terribly lonely the night before, or why he'd needed a hug to get to sleep, but when she'd slipped into bed next to him he'd felt whole for the first time in years. He looked down at the envelope in his hands. A scribbled note in pencil lifted his melancholy.

Willy - have gone to get dressed. See you in ten. R

Willy looked over to the alarm clock and nearly jumped out of his skin when he realised it was quarter to eight. Duty told him to get dressed quickly so that the Buckets would not be kept waiting, but he was more interested in opening his card than in being punctual today. He slid one finger under the flap of the envelope and gently prised it open, the card inside being removed with similar care. Willy smiled at the pair of cuddling teddy bears on the front and gave them a little wave.

"Hi guys!" He read the usual wish for a Merry Christmas on the front and opened the card, ignoring the pre-printed comment and scanning down to Rosanna's untidy scrawl at the bottom.

I hope this will be your best Christmas ever. I love you, Rosanna XXX

"Thanks," he whispered, happy tears stinging his eyes. He wiped them away and looked around the room. It was then that he noticed an odd, bulky shape hanging from the bedpost. Willy placed the card on the bedside table and scrambled over to the bottom of the bed. The weird shape turned out to be a Christmas stocking with a small, wrapped box inside. "So this is what you were up to," he muttered with a grin, "and there was me thinking you'd just come in for a kiss." He reached into the stocking and pulled out the box, rattling it experimentally. "Oh, it's socks," he grumbled. "Everyone always gets me socks. Every year, every employee. Socks." He crossed his legs grouchily and tore open the cardboard box with disdain. He just couldn't believe that Rosanna would have been so unimaginative as to have bought him… Willy's train of thought was interrupted as he plunged his hand into the box and his fingers touched not the expected wool or cotton, but cold, fine silk.

"What the?" started Willy, opening the box fully and examining the contents. He lifted out a pair of deep purple boxer shorts and blushed. "So that's what you were looking for." He checked the size label for lack of anything else to do. "Well done." Willy regarded the shorts in his hands. They were quite exquisite of course and he did like them, but the fact she was buying him underwear meant that, on some level, she was thinking about that particular part of his anatomy more than he would have liked. Willy swallowed nervously. Perhaps it hadn't been such a bright idea to pull Rosanna into bed with him the night before - come to think of it, it certainly hadn't been that good an idea if he didn't want her to assume that he wanted to… That he wanted to… Willy let the underwear slip from his grasp. _Did he want to?_ It would certainly explain why he'd needed her by his side last night. And why he didn't mind that she embraced him all the time and… _Oh gods._ Willy clenched a fist and bit the knuckles in terror. While he'd known all along that Rosanna wanted more than he'd be able to give, he'd never really considered that _he_ might change his mind. It was perhaps fortunate for Willy's sanity that a knock at the door interrupted his musings.

"Gah - come in!" shouted Willy, stuffing the boxer shorts back into their box and into the stocking. He pulled on his dressing gown as the door opened, tying the belt as he looked up to greet the intruder.

"Good morning Willy, Merry Christmas," said Dr Wonka upon entering the room and depositing a pile of Christmas presents at the door.

"Dad! Hi - Merry Christmas!" Willy smiled broadly. "Sorry - I'm running late - just give me a few minutes and I'll be ready. Wait here!" Willy picked up his clothes and darted into the bathroom to change. Dr Wonka paced around Willy's bedroom, stopping by the window to admire the view. He leaned sideways against the window recess behind the curtain. In doing so, he blocked the rest of the room from view and could concentrate on the vast landscape in front of him. Dr Wonka was feeling a little unbalanced this morning - after years of spending Christmas alone, flicking forlornly through old photograph albums and wishing he could see his son just once more, here he was in the infamous chocolate factory, about to spend the whole week's holiday with Willy and his new family. Somehow, Dr Wonka felt he just didn't fit in. The Buckets had more or less adopted the estranged and strange chocolatier and Dr Wonka wasn't sure he was that important to his son as a result. Besides, Willy now had Rosanna, someone who Dr Wonka was sure would be a permanent addition to the small community inside the factory gates. Inside this close circle of loving, open and candy-loving individuals, there was no room for a grouchy, reclusive old dentist. He clenched his fists and rubbed his knuckles together, unaccustomed to being without the latex gloves for so long. He hadn't seen a client in weeks, most avoiding dentist appointments around the holiday period for monetary reasons. He tried to shake himself out of his maudlin mood as he watched Christmas starting to get into full swing in the town below. Down in the park, families walked together in the snow. _Even fate hates me_, thought Dr Wonka, remembering how many times he could have gone for a walk with Willy on a crisp winter's morning but neglected to do so on account of his work. _You're here now - try to enjoy today_. Dr Wonka glanced to his left and saw his wife's telescope proudly displayed by his side. _Wish you were here with me, Elizabeth._

Rosanna burst into Willy's room and glanced around for any sign of life. She espied a dark shadow at the window behind the curtain and ran over lightly, throwing back the curtain with a flourish.

"Hello gorgeous… oh gosh, good morning." She gave Dr Wonka a shy smile. "Merry Christmas, sir."

"Merry Christmas Rosanna," replied the dentist dryly. "You will be delighted to hear that 'gorgeous' is getting changed in the bathroom."

"Thanks." The pair looked out of the window as they searched for conversation. "Have you been downstairs to the Chocolate Room yet?"

"No."

"Oh, the Buckets have such a lovely Christmas tree - we put all our presents underneath it for everyone to open today."

"That's nice," said Dr Wonka vaguely.

"Dr Wonka, what's wrong?" asked Rosanna quietly.

"Nothing - it's Christmas and there's joy and love in the world again!" said Dr Wonka, a little too brightly as he forced a smile.

"Which is quite sickening when you're not in a joyful and loving mood," said Rosanna. Dr Wonka gratefully dropped the act and went back to staring out of the window. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Is this about Willy?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"He's happy you're here for Christmas you know. He's talked about you an awful lot."

"I doubt that those were very pleasant conversations."

"He's missed you," offered Rosanna.

"Has he now?"

"Oh for goodness sake!" snapped Rosanna. "When are you two going to get over yourselves?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Willy doesn't hate you, Dr Wonka, no more than you disapprove of him! But the two of you are so wound up with self-loathing that you just can't accept that you might actually enjoy each other's company!"

"Miss Derby, I really must protest…"

"Why? Someone had to say it! You both spent years avoiding one another and now even while you're in the same room you can't be more than civil to each other! For pity's sake - is it going to be another thirty years before you can accept that Willy might have forgiven you?"

"Of course not," spat Dr Wonka. "It'll take longer than that," he added quietly, looking out of the window. Rosanna stopped the sarcastic reply and touched Dr Wonka's arm lightly.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my place." She saw Dr Wonka's face open up and was not surprised when a tear rolled slowly down his cheek.

"So much wasted time."

"Perhaps you should make the most of what you've got left? And just enjoy your time together instead of spending it worrying about the past."

"Yes. I… I know." As Dr Wonka's head sank lower over his chest, Rosanna slipped her arm around his vast chest and hugged him.

"I'm sorry - it's Christmas and I shouldn't ha-" Rosanna was cut off by the slam of the bathroom door behind her.

"What's going on? Dad - what's wrong?" asked Willy.

"I'll leave you two alone," said Rosanna, disentangling herself and scurrying out of the door.

"Dad - are you sick?"

"No. You know I'm proud of you, don't you Willy?" Dr Wonka turned to face Willy and turned his powerful gaze to Willy's face. Despite all his father's reassurances, Willy really _wasn't _sure and his hesitancy in replying revealed this to Dr Wonka.

"Yeah, of course," lied Willy.

"I am. I just wish I could make you believe it," said Dr Wonka, pulling Willy into his chest for a hug. They stood for a moment, Willy listening to his father's heart labouring away under the tweed jacket while wondering if this was the same jacket from years ago.

"Dad - I want to know one thing."

"Anything."

"What did you get me for Christmas?" asked Willy with a cheeky grin.

"You will find out soon enough," sighed Dr Wonka. "Is that all you want to know?"

"Seriously, what do you think of Rosanna?"

"She's wonderful. Don't let her get away."

"I don't intend to. So, shall we go and have Christmas with the Buckets?"

"After you."

"Age before beauty," insisted Willy with a grin. Dr Wonka rolled his eyes and crossed over to the door, picking up his parcels before leaving.

Charlie looked up and waved as Willy and his father approached the Bucket house. The entire Bucket clan was gathered outside the house on a variety of chairs and comfy sofas moved there for the occasion by a cohort of Oompa-Loompas earlier that morning as their last task before their ten day Christmas holiday. Charlie was sitting cross-legged next to the Christmas tree, still in his pyjamas, a large mug of chocolate in his hands. Rosanna was sitting next to him, a daft Santa hat perched on her head. She rose to help Dr Wonka deposit his presents under the tree.

"Good morning everyone!" chirped Willy, twirling his cane as he approached the group. "And a Merry Christmas to all!" After all the appropriate greetings had been exchanged and Dr Wonka had made himself comfortable on a large leather chair, Mrs Bucket clapped her hands together and smiled broadly at Charlie.

"Okay Charlie - dig in!" Charlie smiled and dived under the tree, emerging with a present for each of those gathered outside the house. After some minutes of determined paper rustling and tearing, each celebrant was holding a new present. Willy was particularly pleased with his gift from Charlie - a pair of electronic drumsticks that Willy was now using to beat out the "William Tell Overture" on Rosanna's head.

"What did you say these were called?" asked Willy.

"Rhythm sticks," answered Charlie, laughing at Rosanna's slightly irritated look.

"And how long do the batteries last for?"

"Ages. And they're AA batteries so they're easy to replace."

"Brilliant!" said Willy, air-drumming an impressive outro and ending in a cymbal clash.

"Oh, goodie," drawled Rosanna.

An hour later and all the presents had been opened. Along with the rhythm sticks, Willy had received a purple knitted jumper from Mrs Bucket with a large 'W' in yellow on the front. He had instantly stripped off his coat and waistcoat upon opening the gift and donned the jumper with a look of childish delight. His father had presented him with a new, golden 'W' and Willy proudly pinned the new brooch at his throat, pocketing his older insignia and patting the pocket affectionately. The new brooch was engraved on the reverse with a message from his father - Per Ardua Ad Astra. It seemed apt given their turbulent history together. Charlie of course got the best haul - with books, clothes, a new television and DVD player for his attic room (Willy kept his reservations about this gift to himself) and an assortment of games, puzzles and stationery. Rosanna and Dr Wonka both had the raw deal with only four presents each and Rosanna felt a little guilty when she received a stunning coat in exchange for the ugly tie and bottle of brandy she'd bought for Dr Wonka. While Charlie went to put some of his presents in the house, Willy opened his last present - quite by chance, the 'safe' extra present Rosanna had bought for him. As he ripped off the paper, a look of confusion crossed his face.

"But I already have sunglasses Rosanna."

"They're swimming goggles. Ready for your lessons starting next week - or had you forgotten?" teased Rosanna.

"No - I hadn't forgotten. That's a really thoughtful present - thanks!" Willy looked down at the goggles in his hand. They were purple (of course) with his WW motif decorating the frames. In the event of his sinking under the water never to emerge, at least he'd be able to see the rest of the pool as he drowned. Willy pushed that thought to the back of his mind and looked over to Rosanna, smiling as she played nervously with her necklace. He was pleased that the cocoa wood had retained its scent.

"You sure you like them?"

"Yes - they're groovy. Thanks," said Willy, planting a quick kiss on Rosanna's forehead before thinking about his audience. "Oh, sorry," he mumbled, looking at Grandpa George's nauseous look.

"So what now?" asked Mrs Bucket. "What do you like to do on Christmas Day Willy?"

Willy exchanged a quick look with his father. He wasn't sure that "eat dinner, watch the Queen's speech, fall asleep in front of television" was the right answer. He thought back to when Christmas had actually meant something more to him than a reminder he was totally alone.

"We could play a game," suggested Willy.

During the course of the rest of the morning the Buckets and company played various board games that Willy had found in the games room built some years previously. Trivial Pursuit was a great success, although Charlie was a little disappointed that he hadn't got to find out what was in the big, carved wooden box that played jungle music when you shook it. At long last it was time for lunch. It seems unnecessary to describe Willy's delight at the spread presented by Mrs Bucket, nor does his thinly veiled glee at the sight of a flaming Christmas Pudding complete with holly and brandy sauce require excessive exposition. After everyone had finished their dinner, the grandparents retired to bed to sleep off the extravagant meal and Mr and Mrs Bucket went out for an afternoon visit to friends with Charlie, leaving Willy, Rosanna and Dr Wonka at a bit of a loss as to what to do.

"We could always go to the park," suggested Rosanna, remembering how Dr Wonka had watched the families walking there earlier.

"You know, I think it's a little too cold out there for me," said Dr Wonka. "Why don't you two go ahead?" he added. Willy's obvious disappointment was dispelled when his father, despairing at Willy's lack of common sense, continued, "I'm sure that you and Rosanna would like some time alone."

"No, we're happy for you to be there," said Willy.

"Unless you would like some time alone," said Rosanna quickly. She was rather taken with the idea of a walk in the snow without parental interference.

"I think I would - I'm not as young as I was," laughed Dr Wonka, his strong baritone suggesting that, despite age, he was more than capable of walking around a park.

"We could stay with you if you like, I don't want you feel left out," said Willy.

"Wilhelm Wonka, go for a walk with your girlfriend and that's an order!" said Dr Wonka with mock sternness.

"Yes sir," muttered Willy quickly. He shrugged into his coat quickly and, with burning cheeks, led Rosanna out of the Chocolate Room and into the hall.

"Wilhelm?" asked Rosanna.

"Yes?"

"Nothing," giggled Rosanna.

"What?"

"Nothing - sorry, it's just… Wilhelm."

"What's wrong with Wilhelm? It's a good, strong, German name and the Von Wonka's were from Germany."

"Germany?"

"Yes - they moved over here in the nineteenth century. Why?"

"Nothing, it's just interesting that's all." They walked on in silence. "Willy?"

"Yes?"

"Sorry for giggling at your name."

"It's okay, I'm used to it. Why do you think I go by Willy?"

"If it makes you feel any better, my middle name's Mildred." Willy stopped mid-step and guffawed loudly. "Now that's out of the way, onwards," said Rosanna, cursing her mother for her attachment to Great Aunt Mildred Awen Jones.

The park was crowded considering the bitter weather. Rosanna listened the crunching of the snow beneath their feet and allowed her gaze to wander around the park while she held onto Willy's arm. Wearing his enormous sunglasses, Willy was lost in his own thoughts and hiding from the world again. They came to a bench obscured from the main path by some leafless bushes and Willy sat down, beckoning Rosanna to sit next to him.

"Isn't it lovely here?" sighed Rosanna.

"Yes. Rosanna?"

"Mmm-hmm?"

"Are you happy with me?"

"More than happy darling, you know that."

"I love you very much you know."

"Yes I do, what's wrong Willy? You look awfully serious." She lifted a hand and pulled off Willy's sunglasses, knocking off his top hat in the process. She made to rescue it from the snow, but Willy stopped her. His forehead was furrowed as if he was in a great amount of pain.

"Leave it. Rosanna, I want to know why you bought me the boxers."

"Oh, I thought you liked them?"

"I do, but could you answer the question please?"

"I thought that you'd like them and it's hard to buy for someone like you. You already have everything."

"But underwear came to mind first?"

"Well, no, beer did but you don't drink the stuff so…"

"Why underwear?"

"Because that's what everyone gets their boyfriend at Christmas Willy - that or shaving gel and I know you use that Oompa-Loompan recipe so I couldn't get that."

"I see. So there was no hidden motive?"

"What?"

"No secret desire to, well, move-things-along-a-bit-quicker?" asked Willy, stumbling over the words as he forced them out.

"Well, maybe," admitted Rosanna, realising that she'd broken the take it slow code they'd introduced at the start of their relationship.

"I see." Willy stared at his gloved hands and his face contorted as he digested this new piece of information. "I guessed as much."

"I'm sorry if I've offended you."

"Not at all, I'm rather flattered, just a little… scared." Willy looked up at Rosanna. "When I think about you, I imagine myself cuddling you and protecting you from the evil world, perhaps even kissing you. I could lose myself in a fantasy of kissing you at sunrise," he touched her cheek briefly with a gloved hand.

"Oh my," gulped Rosanna.

"But now it seems that your - imaginings - are more intense than that and I'm concerned that I'm going to let you down at some point."

"Willy, you'd never let me down. I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to."

"That's the problem," said Willy, edging closer to Rosanna and hugging her to his chest for the support he needed. "I'm not sure that I _don't want to _anymore."

"That's a double negative."

"I know."

"Are you trying to say that you want to make love to me?" asked Rosanna, her heart hammering as she held Willy close to her.

"Well," he hesitated. "Sort of," whispered Willy, closing his eyes in pain. "And then again no. I don't want to yet, but when I thought about why you might have bought me those boxers this morning I realised what you probably wanted and I, well, I wasn't repulsed by the idea. Which is a big step forward for me and it was not intended as an insult, which that probably sounded like…"

"Willy, you're whittering again."

"Oh, I wonder why?" said Willy with a sarcastic laugh. "I think I'm going crazy. I'm still trying to suppress the xenophobe in me you know - every so often I have to overcome this urge to run screaming from you."

"That's quite normal, I wouldn't worry about it," drawled Rosanna. She pulled back and gave Willy a beaming smile. "I love you."

"I love you too." Rosanna leaned forward and kissed Willy, this time allowing her hands to roam freely over his back and waist and not bothering to check herself for fear of scaring him. Willy trembled slightly, but bravely tried to return the action, his hands shaking as they stroked down to Rosanna's waist and came to rest on her hips. The kiss ended and Willy pulled back. "Never leave me," he begged, pulling Rosanna to his chest and almost crushing her with the force of the hug.

"Not going anywhere," promised Rosanna, squirming to try and give herself breathing space. A papery rustle from the top pocket of Willy's coat made them both freeze and back away a little. Frowning, Willy reached into the pocket and pulled out a dented envelope.

"Oh, I forgot - I'm so sorry. It's your card."

"It's okay, better late than never!"

"But it's crumpled," complained Willy, annoyed that the card, complete with the poem he'd spent _four days_ composing was bent out of shape.

"Never heard of an iron, have you?" said Rosanna, taking the card out of Willy's hand and opening it eagerly. The card was plain and elegant, a cut-out Christmas tree decorating the front. "Did you make this?"

"Yes. Open it." Willy peered over nervously as Rosanna opened the card and started to read the handwritten poem inside.

_I met you on a cold October's night,_

_Having suffered quite a fright,_

_You picked me up, you dusted me down,_

_And saved me from the evil clowns._

_Now I cannot breathe without you,_

_I know that you also need me too._

_I cannot express in words how I feel,_

_You've stolen my mind, this feeling's unreal._

_It's like a thousand whangdoodles are loose in my brain_

_Telling me a hundred different things again and again_

_Who would have thought a night at the circus_

_Would have caused this kind of ruckus?_

_Anyway, the thing is, what I need to say_

_Is that my heart is yours this Christmas Day._

_I love you Rosanna._

"Oh Willy, that's lovely!" giggled Rosanna, trying to forgive the phrase 'you also need me too' in deference of the fact he'd made such an effort . "No-one's ever written poetry to me before."

"It's not that good," blushed Willy.

"It's perfect." Rosanna leaned over and took Willy's hands in hers. "I'm so lucky to have you with me."

"Likewise."

"Willy?"

"Yes?"

"Merry Christmas." Rosanna and Willy embraced as a fresh snowfall started. Willy thought it was awfully inconvenient that, just as he was starting to enjoy the moment, freezing cold lumps of ice were landing on his face distracting him. He ignored them and kissed Rosanna, intrigued by the fact she seemed to be enjoying the mush descending on her from the sky above. Willy melted into the kiss, ignoring the rest of the world as he contemplated the greeting from Rosanna's card. Was this his best Christmas ever? _Quite possibly_, thought Willy as Rosanna ran her hand through his hair, _Quite possibly._

Author's Note:

Yes, I know, Willy's got a Weasley jumper. ;-) A not-so-subtle nod to mumsy gifts from HP back when JKR could still write and… (wanders off muttering about book 6).

The rhythm sticks actually exist - they can be found on www dot iwantoneofthose dot com if you want to see what they're like. They looked like a typical Wonka gift.

Anyway , please review! I like getting feedback. ;-)


	22. Awakening

Charlie made himself comfortable on his bed and regarded the present given to him earlier by Mr Wonka. The wooden puzzle box glared back at him. Try as he might, Charlie could not work out how to open the box. He knew that there would be something of great importance inside - there was no way, even with the distraction of Rosanna, that Mr Wonka would have given him an empty wooden box for his Christmas present. Charlie sat there puzzling for a bit longer.

"How about if we just press this button in like _this_ and twist this section like _that,"_ muttered Charlie, listening for any sign of clicking, whirring or clanking from inside the box. There was a quiet chime from deep inside the mechanism. "Yes!" said Charlie, trying to lift the lid. There was an inevitable clunking of gears as the mechanism reset to locked. "No!"

"Charlie, dear, are you okay?" shouted Mrs Bucket from downstairs.

"No! I can't open this box! Can I go and see Mr Wonka and ask for his help?"

"Tomorrow dear - I don't know if he'll be back yet."

"Oh mum!"

"Tomorrow." Charlie sighed and looked down at the box again.

"Press the catch. Lift this lever. Twist this section..."

Rosanna and Willy walked into the main hallway hand-in-hand, Willy humming quietly to himself as he led Rosanna back to her room. On the walk up the stairs, Rosanna stopped a few steps up from Willy, slipped her hands onto his hips and pushed him gently against the wall, kissing him as she did so. He responded by running his hands up to her waist and stroking them upwards to her back, caressing her shoulders lightly and playing with her hair as they kissed. Rosanna released Willy's mouth, throwing him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, carried away."

"I can see that," giggled Willy.

"Shall we carry on?"

"Can't. Someone might see us," whispered Willy, nuzzling into Rosanna's neck before withdrawing, unhooking one of her arms from around his neck and kissing her wrist carefully.

"Come on then," said Rosanna, a mischievous glint in her eyes. While she trotted up the stairs ahead of him, Willy stood for a moment contemplating what that look could have meant and whether he wanted any part of it. He raised a hand and giggled silently behind it, then raced off after Rosanna.

Once inside Rosanna's room with the door locked, Willy deposited his coat, hat and cane on the dressing table and waltzed over to Rosanna, sweeping her into his arms.

"What shall we do? What shall we do?" asked Willy. "It's Christmas Day, we've got two and a half hours left until midnight and we've got to do something!"

"Well, we could watch a movie."

"We do that all the time!"

"Scrabble?"

"You always win. And by the way, regardless of what the rulebook says, 'zo' is not a word."

"Watch random rubbish on the television until we fall asleep from exhaustion?"

"Boring."

"You suggest something then." Rosanna rested her head against Willy's chest and huffed.

"I know," said Willy, backing off and turning on the stereo. There was a brief clattering of CD cases as Willy rifled through Rosanna's music collection. The less than melodic strains of Aqua filled the room and Rosanna flinched.

"Willy - of all the songs - why "Barbie Girl?" for goodness sake?"

"Because it's silly, and it is the season to be so. Besides, it's your CD so you can hardly complain."

"I bought it for "Turn back time" not this rubbish."

"Dance with me?" Willy held out a hand to Rosanna.

"Okay." She joined Willy on the rug and slipped into 'bored disco queen' mode. She watched as Willy bopped away with his eyes shut. After a few minutes she laughed. "You're funny." Willy froze.

"How so?"

"Just the way you dance - like you haven't a care in the world and you don't mind what anyone thinks."

"Should I? Do I look embarrassing?"

"No - in fact you look free. It's just that most people are too uptight to dance like that."

"I don't dance with most people. Heck, I usually dance alone."

"But not tonight," declared Rosanna, pulling Willy close to her and slipping her arms around his neck as the next track started.

"Ros - I don't know how to dance with a partner."

"I'll teach you - look, put your arms around my waist and just move with me."

"Kay."

They swayed together awkwardly until the end of the song, Willy wondering all the while why this was the preferred method of dancing for couples - it was much less fun than his way. He said as much to Rosanna, who simply laughed and stepped sway from him towards the stereo.

"Perhaps we need to change the music," she suggested, a plan forming in her mind. She slipped a different CD in and paused with her breath held until the music started. As the opening bars of Livin' la Vida Loca started to play, she sashayed over to Willy and watched as his reaction turned from mild interest to intense concentration with each successive wiggle of her hips. Keeping her eyes locked to Willy's face she started to perform a series of complicated, writhing movements in order to bring herself into contact with him. She guided his hands to her waist and spun around in his arms, resting her head against his chest as she dropped in front of him. As the first chorus started, she turned back to Willy and slid her right leg up to hook his hip for support. Rosanna dipped backwards, then snapped to upright and ran a hand over Willy's chest. She watched as he started to break into a nervous sweat and continued her dance, including as many high kicks and shimmies as she could in her improvised routine in order to keep his interest. Finally she turned her back on him and stopped moving, waiting for his response. Slowly, Willy edged forwards and put his hands on her waist, Rosanna arching her back to expose her neck and a clear view down her cleavage for Willy's inspection. She reached up and pulled Willy's head down and he obligingly kissed her unprotected neck. Impulsively, Rosanna's quickened pulse throbbing in her neck and almost suggesting that he do so, Willy nipped at the nape of her neck gently. Rosanna groaned, grateful that the noise was hidden from eavesdroppers outside the room by the dying strains of the song.

"Sorry - I didn't think it would hurt," said Willy, swiftly releasing her.

"You really have no idea, do you?" moaned Rosanna. "Come here," she instructed, turning in Willy's arms and pulling him in for a kiss. She worked her way across his cheek and down his neck, unfastening his brooch to loosen his shirt collar. Willy felt his knees buckle and staggered backwards until he hit the bedpost, leaning against it for support.

"Oh my," whimpered Willy as Rosanna continued her gentle assault on his neck. When she was sure he was lost in the moment, she bit him softly. "Aargh!" shouted Willy, his eyes flying open in alarm.

"Shall I stop?"

"Nuh-uh!" Rosanna grinned and planted a few soothing kisses on Willy's neck and he relaxed, his arms lying limply at his sides. Rosanna noticed the change in posture and nibbled gently at his neck for a few moments, the speed of his breath indicating when she had found a particularly sensitive spot. She sank her teeth into his neck hard, drawing an enraptured groan. "Ohhh, hell, I'm dating a vampire," moaned Willy, trying feebly to embrace her. He pulled her around and into a kiss, holding her close against his body as he did so. Both noticed something was amiss almost instantly, and they looked down together.

It was difficult to say whether Willy or Rosanna turned a deeper shade of red, but certainly Rosanna recovered more quickly.

"It's okay - that's quite a normal reaction," she reassured the panic-stricken chocolatier.

"I am so sorry," spluttered Willy, moving away and sinking down into a chair, his eyes hidden behind his hands.

"Don't worry about it - I'm rather flattered."

"I can't believe this - why?" he asked, looking up at Rosanna. She blinked slowly.

"Well…"

"It was a rhetorical question!" Breathing deeply, Willy glared over to the window and tried to calm his body down. _Cold shower. FREEZING cold shower. _"I have no intention of doing anything like that with you tonight."

"I know."

"Good." He looked down into his lap. "Oh for heaven's sake!" he muttered crossly.

"Anything I can do to help?" Willy shot her a terrified look. "I didn't mean that," she added sharply. Willy watched as she crossed to the bathroom and drew herself a glass of water.

"Thirsty?"

"Not exactly," said Rosanna, pouring the cold water over Willy's lap.

"What the…?" He jumped up, the freezing water numbing any impure thoughts his body might have had.

"Problem solved?" Willy looked down and nodded.

"Thanks." He pulled Rosanna into an embrace and kissed her hair.

"Never thought that trick would come in useful again," she mumbled.

"Not listening. See how I'm not hearing this?"

"Sorry."

"Forget it."

"So, what shall we do now?" asked Rosanna with a yawn.

"You're tired aren't you?"

"A little. Why?"

"We could just go to bed."

"But it's early," whined Rosanna. "And I want to talk to you some more."

"You can. I…" Willy felt awkward. Despite his acute embarrassment at the earlier incident, he didn't want to be alone tonight. The thought of going back to his large, empty room did not appeal to him. Then again, neither did the prospect of losing control and disgracing himself further. He weighed both options carefully before continuing. "I would like, very much, to… to… stay here t-tonight," said Willy, finishing in barely a whisper.

"Of course."

"It's just I liked having company last night."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up this morning."

"That's fine." Willy smiled down at her. "I just want to cuddle though - you know that, don't you?"

"Yes. Willy - I understand perfectly. Please stop worrying."

"Kay. Thanks."

"Anytime," said Rosanna. "Do you want to run up and get a toothbrush or something for the morning?"

"Good idea - I'll be back in a flash," said Willy with a grin, backing out of the room with a dramatic bow. He bounced down the corridor and headed back to the stairwell, pausing briefly to smile at the memory of being pinned to the wall by Rosanna. He paused a few steps later, wondering if he really should be spending the night with her. Shaking himself, Willy decided that whether or not it was a good idea, he was going to make sure he stayed with Rosanna tonight and perhaps the next night as well. A random line of a song passed through his mind. "Do one thing, every day, that scares you." _This will make the seventeenth today_, thought Willy. _Guess I did have a lot of catching up to do._ He continued up to his room to pack his things as quickly as possible.

A few minutes later, the belongings he needed for the morning stashed under one arm and his toothbrush and comb held tightly in one fist, Willy ran back to Rosanna's room as covertly as possible. So intent was he on not being seen, that he forgot to look around the corner and smacked straight into his father's chest at full run. Dr Wonka staggered backwards while Willy, the lighter of the two by a considerable amount, sprawled on the floor, his pyjamas, dressing gown , clothes and toiletries scattering around him as he fell. Dr Wonka automatically leaned over to help his son to stand.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah. Dad - what are you doing here?"

"I was on my way to see you. Could you take me back to the house tomorrow? I need to pick something up."

"Yes of course."

"You dropped these," said Dr Wonka, bending to pick up the items at his feet. Unfortunately for Willy, these included his toothbrush and Christmas boxers. "Ah," said Dr Wonka, handing them to Willy.

"I can explain."

"I'm sure you can, but I don't want to hear it."

"We were only going to cuddle, I swear," said Willy, horribly embarrassed.

"Have a nice night, Willy," answered Dr Wonka with a smile, scooping up the pyjamas and piling them on top of the shirt and toiletries Willy had rescued. "Merry Christmas." Dr Wonka turned on his heels and marched off down the corridor. Willy felt his legs start to buckle. _His father knew._ This wasn't the same as dating the girl, or kissing her, this was something else entirely. Part of him felt that his father wouldn't approve of his spending the night with her out of wedlock. Dr Wonka stopped at the door to his room and unlocked it, casting a look down the corridor to where Willy was still standing rigidly in horror. "Willy!"

"Yes Dad?"

"Don't keep the poor girl waiting." Dr Wonka disappeared into his room. Willy set off at a dead run to Rosanna's room, located just past and opposite his father's.

Rosanna turned around as Willy breathlessly burst through the door and started pacing the floor, discarding the pile of clothes and toiletries as he passed the sofa. He pointed to the door as he started another circuit.

"Willy?"

"Close the door!"

"What's wrong?"

"Lock it as well!" Rosanna did as she was asked, then turned back to Willy, who was now pulling on his hair and pacing with increased intensity.

"What happened?"

"He knows! He knows!"

"Who knows? Knows what?"

"Dad! He knows - he saw me and he knows I'm in here tonight and oh no..." Willy sank down and folded up over his knees.

"Did he disapprove?" asked Rosanna quietly.

"No - he told me to have a nice night and not to keep you waiting!"

"Maybe you should take his advice," she suggested. "Aw, you brought the pants I bought you."

"Yeah. Should I be this embarrassed?"

"No."

"But he thinks we're up to something! He thinks we're having se...se..."

"Sex?"

"Yeah, that." Willy frowned.

"Well, he's wrong isn't he?"

"Yeah. I suppose. But he's my father, Ros! How could he think that?"

"Because you're a healthy adult male with a girlfriend."

"But we, we're not, I mean," stammered Willy.

"Does it really matter?" asked Rosanna quietly. Willy looked up at her.

"No. I suppose not."

"We're happy with this, aren't we?"

"Yes, of course."

"Then why are you worrying?" she gave Willy an encouraging smile. "So we're going to snuggle up like two teddy bears tonight - it really isn't anyone else's business."

"Teddy bears, eh?" said Willy.

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Half an hour later, Rosanna rested her head against the pillow and waited for Willy to finish changing into his pyjamas in the bathroom. She had selected one of her more flattering nightdresses - a long white satin number - that concealed as much as possible. The only other alternative had been one of her baggy t-shirts. While her dress sense was usually reasonable, Rosanna knew she failed in the sexy nightwear department - being one of the baggy t-shirt brigade on most occasions. At least she did have this one reasonable nightdress and she hoped that Willy would appreciate it. The bathroom doorknob turned and Willy stepped out, dressed immaculately in black dressing gown, emerald pyjamas and black slippers. He crossed to the sofa while avoiding looking at the bed and lay his clothes out solemnly.

"How do you do that?" asked Rosanna.

"Do what?"

"Look so perfect all the time?"

"It only takes a few minutes to brush your hair you know," mumbled Willy. "Ready to sleep?" He glanced up at the bed. "Oh wow."

"You like?"

"I do," said Willy, walking over to the bed and sitting next to Rosanna. "It's pretty."

"Thanks." Willy stared down at Rosanna's face for a few moments, his eyes staring dreamily into hers. He stood and removed the dressing gown before kicking his slippers off next to the bed. Gingerly, he climbed into bed next to Rosanna. She squirmed over to lie next to him and touched his hair lightly.

"Cuddling, nothing else," warned Willy.

"Surely I get a goodnight kiss?" pouted Rosanna.

"Very well," sighed Willy. "If you insist." He leaned over Rosanna and drew her into a tight embrace, kissing her. Rosanna allowed her hands to wander over Willy's back as he caressed her hair and deepened the kiss. For his part, Willy was losing himself and enjoying the attention Rosanna was lavishing on his back muscles. They parted, both out of breath and Willy looked down at Rosanna with a touch of regret in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" asked Rosanna.

"If I wasn't such a scaredy cat, this would be one of those nights to remember, wouldn't it?" asked Willy.

"It already is." Rosanna pulled Willy back down onto the pillows and stroked his face gently. "Don't worry so much."

"I'll try not to," said Willy, playing with Rosanna's hair. "I just want to make you happy."

"You do." Rosanna reached up to hit the light switch, but Willy stopped her. "I want to look at you one more time." He cradled Rosanna's cheek in his hand and surveyed her face critically. "You're beautiful. Okay, you can turn the light off now." Rosanna leaned over and kissed Willy's nose gently before switching off the light. "Ack! Not the nose!"

"Goodnight darling."

"Goodnight Rosanna."

The next morning, almost as soon as Rosanna and Willy entered the Bucket household, Charlie presented Willy with the puzzlebox.

"I can't open it Mr Wonka. I tried all night," complained Charlie, the bags under his eyes testament to this statement.

"Okay, watch," said Willy, pressing two buttons at the same time and turning the key anticlockwise.

"But that's the way to lock it!" A click later and the lid opened half an inch. "Oh my, was it really that easy?" groaned Charlie.

"Yep. Open it up," encouraged Willy as Rosanna helped herself to breakfast with the rest of the family. Charlie opened the box and pulled out a golden key.

"What does this open?" asked Charlie, eyes wide with anticipation.

"I'll show you - Mrs Bucket, can I borrow Charlie for a few hours? It's important."

"Yes, of course," answered Mrs Bucket. Charlie and Willy headed out of the house and towards the elevator. Once inside, Willy pressed a newly installed gold button and grinned at Charlie.

"That key opens your room, Charlie. It's up to you who goes in there, apart from the Oompa-Loompa cleaning staff who obviously have access to all the rooms in the factory."

"Wow - I get a whole room?"

"Well, technically you've already been promised the whole factory, but this room is yours to start. Just promise me you won't do any experiments in here without me being present, okay?"

"Okay Mr Wonka, I promise."

"Good. I don't want to miss any of the fun. Oh, we're here!" The elevator stopped at a locked wooden door. "Oh, don't lose that key. The only spare is on my keyring and we both know how long it could take for us to find it on there, heh!" Charlie reached over and unlocked the door, holding his breath as he opened it and stepped through.

"Wow!"

The room contained more books than Charlie had seen in his lifetime. Willy had organised the bookshelves lining the walls according to the type of book and Charlie gravitated automatically to the "History of Chocolate" shelves, much to Willy's delight. The centre of the room was taken up by workbenches, on which were placed two of everything - two hotplates, two mixing cauldrons, two cutting blocks, and so on. Charlie raised an eyebrow at Willy.

"What's this room for, Mr Wonka?"

"Well, one day it will be your own Inventing Room. But for now, I'm going to use this room to train you. You'll have assistants," he gestured over his shoulder to a group of stern looking Oompa-Loompas wearing white lab coats, "who will also make sure you're not doing anything unsafe without me around."

"But I can do unsafe things in here when you are around?"

"Yes."

"Cool. What are all the books?"

"That side contains reference books and those," said Willy, pointing at the far wall, "are fiction. I selected the most popular books that you didn't already have - I thought you might need something to read while you're taking a break from studying."

"Studying?"

"You're still at school Charlie. I never took my 'O' levels, but at least you can try and pass your exams. Every revision guide you'll ever need is on that shelf in the middle and if you need it, that computer terminal has internet access. Do not, under any circumstances, put any recipes for candy on that machine - write everything on paper and file it accordingly."

"Will you ever use a computer Mr Wonka?"

"Only when hackers cease to exist. Besides, there's something more honest about a simple pen and notebook. Ready for your first lesson?"

"Yeah! What are we going to invent?"

"Nothing. You are going to learn how to mix chocolate." He waved at the waiting Oompa-Loompas and called, "Lesson one please!"

"But Mr Wonka, all your chocolate is mixed in the river isn't it?"

"Yes, what's your point?"

"Well, if the chocolate is made like that, why do I need to make it in a small pot like this?"

"Philistine," muttered Willy as the Oompa-Loompas set up milk, cream, cocoa beans and sugar on the workbench. "You have to be able to make the basics first Charlie - and if you can't make chocolate, you won't be much of a chocolatier."

"I suppose."

"Okay, let's get to it."

Two hours later, Charlie had made a passable blob of chocolate. It tasted a little too sweet for Willy's palate, but Charlie secretly liked it. However he had to admit that Willy's attempt, while also being a lot tidier, tasted better.

"Practise Charlie. That's all it takes - practise. And genius, but I think you might already have a touch of that."

"Thanks Mr Wonka."

"Now then, I skipped breakfast so I hope you don't mind if I dash off and leave you to clear up?"

"But - the Oompa-Loompas..."

"Will help you, yes, but you need to start at the bottom and I'm afraid that that means scrubbing the pots clean. Besides, they're here as a favour to me - they should be on holiday right now. Don't forget to turn the hotplates off," he added as an afterthought before sweeping out of the room twirling his cane. Charlie shrugged - it had been an interesting few hours and scrubbing out a few pots was a small price to pay for the opportunity of taking over the chocolate factory complete with the skills he'd need to make it a success. He set to work tidying up, watched carefully by the Oompa-Loompas.

Just under a week later, on New Year's Eve, Charlie and Willy were back in the teaching room and once again mixing chocolate. Charlie's mind was not fully on the task however and he had so far failed four times to make an acceptable piece of chocolate. On the fifth attempt, Charlie's concentration floundered completely and the chocolate burned, welding itself to the bottom of the cauldron.

"Charlie, what's up?"

"Why can't I get this right?"

"Because you're not concentrating. What are you thinking about?"

"John's New Year's party."

"But you're not going for hours and, oh, maybe it was a mistake to do this today," said Willy crossly, losing patience as black smoke started pouring out of the cauldron. "Charlie, turn the hotplate off." Charlie did so and poured a jug of water into the still hot cauldron to lift off some of the chocolate that had burned on.

"Sorry sir."

"Don't call me that! I'm not my father. If you must defer, at least call me Mr Wonka. Not sir."

"Sorry Mr Wonka."

"Better. I'll let you clean up here and then the rest of the afternoon is yours."

"Are you going out with Miss Rosanna later?"

"Yes."

"I'm surprised you're not having a party here, Mr Wonka."

"I don't go in for parties anymore Charlie. Who would I invite? Prodnose and company? You go and have fun later, and don't worry about us. My father is spending New Year's with your family and Rosanna and I will be stargazing on the factory roof."

"What if it rains?"

"We'll join your family in the Chocolate Room. Is everything alright Charlie?"

"Yes. It's just that, well..."

"What?"

"I overheard Dad saying that you and Rosanna were getting more serious."

"We are Charlie. Does it worry you?"

"No, but, are you going to get married?" Willy dropped the tasting spoon he was holding and the metal clattered as the spoon bounced on the work surface. _Him? Married?_

"N-now why would you ask a thing like that?"

"It's just that Dad said you were both really close and he could hear wedding bells."

"Really?"

"Yes." Charlie looked up at Willy inquisitively and waited for the answer. Willy fumbled with the equipment on the desk as he tried to think. _Marriage. Wasn't that something that old people did? _He caught his reflection in the side of the shiny cauldron and pouted - he didn't like being reminded that he'd grown up. _Why should I marry her? We're happy, aren't we?_ Willy hadn't thought much further ahead than the next day as far as Rosanna was concernedalthough he did have a vague idea that he didn't want her to leave. Ever. And that in order for her to stay, she'd probably want to… to… Willy hugged his shoulders comfortingly. _What if she doesn't want to stay? What if she doesn't want to get married? It's not as if she's had much success in that department. _He thought back to the previous night. _Then again, she does seem to enjoy being with me._ Willy looked down at Charlie and gave a nervous smile.

"I s-s-suppose we might one day, y-y-yes. It's a possibility. Assuming that things continue as they are, it's probably logical." He tried not to listen to himself - the idea of walking down an aisle and promising the rest of his life to someone else, even Rosanna, unnerving him. Willy supposed he should have been expecting some kind of question along these lines for a few weeks now - Charlie was an observant lad and Willy guessed it was only nerves that had prevented Charlie from asking the question before.

"What'll happen to me?" asked Charlie quietly.

"Pardon?"

"Well, if you and Rosanna have kids, then you won't need me as an heir anymore." Willy's eyes widened and he shot Charlie an alarmed look. Surely the boy didn't realise what he was saying? In order to have kids, why, he'd have to marry Rosanna and then he'd have to… _Maybe Charlie hasn't had that talk with his parents yet. Or those lessons in school with the gross diagrams. _Willy had never considered having children of his own - he was sure that he didn't want to be a bad father and doubted he'd be able to devote much time to offspring while the chocolate factory remained open. Besides, children were not an option with Rosanna in any case. Feeling a little cheated to have had the decision made for him, even if it was the right one, he felt an unexpected pang of regret about Rosanna's accident. He shook himself. He had the next best thing to a son - Charlie. And neither he nor Rosanna needed the distraction of a mewling infant.

"Charlie, come here," said Willy, crouching down and reaching for Charlie's shoulders. "First of all, I've already promised the chocolate factory to you and I never go back on my word. Secondly, and I kinda wish your parents had told you already, Rosanna can't have children. Ever."

"Oh! I see," Charlie smiled at first and then checked himself. "I mean, that's horrible, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. I don't think I'm a nappy kind of guy anyway. And I quite like my nights undisturbed." Willy smiled and pulled Charlie into a hug. "Do you really think that I'd have done all this for you if there was any chance I wasn't going to give you the factory?

"Maybe."

"Don't be daft," said Willy quietly. He hugged Charlie quickly. "I'll see you later." He stood and walked out of the room, deep in thought. He didn't want Charlie to feel insecure and would have to think of some way to better reassure the boy that his position as heir was safe.

Pulling on her new coat, Rosanna regarded her reflection in the mirror before heading out of the room. She liked the black cashmere and was surprised that Dr Wonka had managed to pick out such a nice coat. Walking down the corridor, Rosanna passed the man himself and gave him a large grin in greeting.

"Hi there Dr Wonka!"

"Miss Derby."

"I thought that you were staying downstairs with the Buckets?"

"I was going to, but when you get to my age all you really want to do for the New Year is get to bed early," he said with a smile.

"I know what you mean. Watching Big Ben chime in the New Year at midnight isn't that thrilling once you get past ten years old."

"Are you meeting Willy up on the roof?"

"Yes - he said he had to go and set up so disappeared about an hour ago. I think he took the telescope with him."

"I'm pleased that it's finally seeing some use after all these years."

"So am I. Well, I'd better be going."

"Goodnight," said Dr Wonka, striding off. Rosanna watched him leave thoughtfully. It couldn't be easy for him to accept that his little boy had grown up and was now spending most nights with her. Then again, it had been Dr Wonka who had actively encouraged Willy to develop his relationship with Rosanna further. Perhaps the old man wanted to make sure that his son was safe and cared for? She guessed he was in his late seventies, an age when many people start to worry about how many more days they have left. Perhaps that was why he wasn't so critical of Willy's relationship with her as he might have been. Rosanna stroked the arms of the coat gently and turned to walk to the elevator and thus use it to get to the roof.

Willy lay out the blanket carefully and weighted down the corners with some paperweights borrowed from his office. The telescope was set on a platform at the highest point of the factory - save for the smokestacks - just above the glass of the lookout tower, while the blanket was concealed in a nook just below this level. He set out a pair of champagne flutes and popped the cork on the bottle, relieved when the bottle didn't fizz up all over him.

"Oh, nice!" exclaimed Rosanna. Willy poured her a glass of champagne as she walked over to him. Rosanna took the glass and sipped daintily at the drink. "It's lovely."

"Only the best for you. I haven't quite finished setting up - would you mind?" he added, strolling over to a picnic hamper and pulling out a few plates of nibbles. Rosanna crouched down to help and smiled when she lifted out a box of "Wonka's chocolates for extra special occasions." She waved the box at Willy. "They are nice," he said with a shrug.

"Indeed they are."

"Come on - I've found a planet for you," said Willy, dragging Rosanna up the steps to the telescope. He bent over and made a few careful adjustments to the stand, then moved out of the way for Rosanna to take a look.

"Which planet is it?"

"Guess."

"Jupiter?"

"Correct! We have less than an hour to midnight. Do you want a snack?"

"I'm fine with this thanks." Rosanna took a swig from her glass and walked over to Willy. "So, which constellations are out tonight?"

"That's the plough."

"I know that one. What's the big W?" she asked, tilting her head to one side.

"Cassiopeia."

"Odd name."

"She was a queen in Greek mythology who dared to compare her daughter's beauty to Hera's. Her daughter Andromeda," he pointed to a group of stars, "was to be sacrificed in reparation for her mother's vanity. But Perseus," Willy pointed again, "rescued her with the help of Medusa's head."

"Oh, I saw that movie! He had a horse - Pegasus?"

"Actually, he didn't. That was something the filmmakers added. Together with Bubo."

"I liked the little owl."

"I did too. But Pegasus was ridden by Bellerophon, not Perseus."

"I didn't know you were into Greek mythology."

"You'd be surprised how much reading you can get done when you don't have a social life," sighed Willy. He looked down at the floor and traced a pattern with his right foot. "I was talking to Charlie earlier."

"Oh yes?"

"Seems we're the hot topic around the Bucket dinner table."

"Oh dear. Is he upset?"

"No, just curious. He wanted to know if he was in any danger of losing the factory to baby Wonkas." Willy cursed himself as a fool when he saw Rosanna's shoulders raise in tension.

"What did you tell him?"

"That I was not a nappy person. I've never really wanted kids - at least Charlie's over that helpless and smelly stage."

"Sure you don't mind?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

"I know that you think that now, but maybe one day you'll change your mind and…" Rosanna closed her eyes and fought the urge to cry out.

"Not going to happen - Charlie's my heir. I don't need another one."

"But you might change your mind!"

"Ros - even if I did, I wouldn't leave you."

"You might."

"No. I'm not going to do a Heath and insist on children in order to be happy."

"But…"

"I want to be with you and not because I'm after children or anything else. You're beautiful, you're the only person who's ever thrown water over me," said Willy with a smile, "and I love being with you. When you're not around I don't feel complete. When you are there and when we're kissing it's like the rest of the world drops away. Nothing will change that." He lifted Rosanna's chin gently with one hand and kissed her softly. _Who needs kids? They'd only burst in and disturb moments like these._ Rosanna smiled up at him.

"What else did you two talk about?"

"He asked if," Willy took a calming breath, "if we were, um, if we were likely to ever… likely to be married." He watched Rosanna's face for any sign of a reaction, negative or otherwise.

"Aw, he's such a little sweetie," said Rosanna, her face carefully blank. "What did you say?" Swallowing nervously, the tables turned unfairly, Willy paused before answering.

"I said that it was certainly a possibility. For the future. For us to consider."

"I suppose it is."

"In the future."

"Of course." As Rosanna walked over to top up her drink and fetch one for Willy, he felt his stomach muscles tighten. _She'd marry me if I asked her_, thought Willy. _Oh. My. Gosh. _Rosanna came back over and handed Willy a drink. "To the future," she toasted.

"The future." Willy took a long draught of the champagne and closed his eyes. _I'm going to end up an old, married man before the year is out. Ew._

"What time shall we start tomorrow?"

"Start?" asked Willy, coming back to reality.

"The swimming lessons. Don't tell me you've forgotten already?"

"Oh no, I hadn't forgotten. I just... I was thinking."

"What an odd thing to be doing."

"Ten o'clock. That sound okay?"

"Sounds great. Come on - let's go catch another planet before midnight," said Rosanna, scuttling off. Willy watched her and smiled to himself. "Hey Willy, what's your New Year's resolution?" shouted Rosanna.

"To eat more chocolate," laughed Willy. He walked over to her and lay a hand on her back as she gazed through the telescope. "What's yours?" Rosanna looked at Willy coquettishly and raised an eyebrow. He gave a nervous laugh and then coughed. "Apart from that."

"I really don't have one. How long until New Year's?"

"Half an hour."

"Plenty of time to make one up." Rosanna looked back through the telescope and Willy stared at her for a few moments before turning his attention back to the night sky.

"Ros?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for asking me out to dinner."

"My pleasure." Willy reached out a hand and stroked Rosanna's hair, sending a silent wish to the stars that the next year would be even better than the last.

Read? Review!

By the way, Willy is incorrect. Zo is in fact a word - a zo is a type of Himalayan cattle, although the more common spelling would be zho. I share his indignation and also object to the words gu (a Shetland viol - same as gue), ne (obsolete word meaning not) and ug (to loathe). Doesn't mean I'm going to avoid using them in the next game of scrabble I play though!


	23. Spanner in the works

The alarm on the bedside table gave off a loud, insistent, penetrating series of low-pitched beeps. Rosanna rolled over and, still half-asleep, hit the clock a few times before finally striking the snooze button. She yawned and blinked her eyes open before staring disgustedly at the time. Seven o'clock. She glanced over to the bed next to her. Willy had already surfaced and there was little to indicate he'd ever been in the room other than the dent in his pillow. Rosanna ran her hand over the pillow and smiled gently. No doubt by now Willy would have completed his morning rounds - even though the production lines had been closed for over a week and would remain so for another few days, he still wanted to check on his factory and ensure everything was as it should be. Stretching back cat-like on the bed, Rosanna raised herself to a sitting position and regarded herself in the mirror. _Coffee. I need coffee. And a hairbrush._ She staggered off the bed and straightened the T-shirt she'd slept in the night before (much to Willy's discomfort as he was rather concerned about "being potentially exposed to that amount of leg"). A knock at the door interrupted her mid-yawn and she turned to face the sound.

"Come in!" The door opened and Willy's head appeared around it.

"I bring gifts," he said with a grin, entering the room and presenting Rosanna with a breakfast tray laden with food and - most importantly - coffee.

"Thanks," replied Rosanna, taking the tray with some relief. She hadn't had nearly enough sleep - they had stayed on the roof talking for hours after midnight and fatigue threatened to throw a spanner in the works as regards the swimming lessons later.

"I thought you might need to eat now, because you're not supposed to eat less than two hours before swimming."

"You're all set then? Swimming costume all ready?"

"Oh yeah. You?"

"Of course." Rosanna took a deep draught of coffee. "Looking forward to your first lesson?"

"Yes." Willy looked down at the floor. "No. What if I drown?"

"You won't drown - I'll be right there with you. I won't let anything happen to you."

"And you won't laugh if I can't do it?"

"No. Of course not."

"Kay. Guess it won't be so bad."

"It won't."

"I'll meet you down in the Pool Room."

"How do I get there?"

"New button - it's blue. I fitted it last night and you can't miss it - it's on the left side."

"Did you build changing rooms?"

"Yes."

"I'll change down there." Rosanna looked at Willy. "What's the matter?"

"I'm just a bit nervous."

"You'll do fine. I promise."

"See you later then," said Willy, rising to leave. He flashed a forced smile at Rosanna and backed out of the room, his high-heeled boots clipping away down the corridor. Frowning, Rosanna wondered whether this was such a good idea. She'd never taught anyone to swim before and wasn't sure that she would be able to help Willy beat his nerves sufficiently to make a success of today's lesson. And if today went wrong, he'd never want to swim again. Shrugging, hoping she could do this, Rosanna set about finishing her breakfast.

At nine-thirty, Willy leaned against the wall of the elevator and watched as the rooms sped by. He was scared and didn't want to admit the possibility to himself. Nervously, he clutched the bag under his arm for comfort. He wasn't adverse to the idea of learning to swim - he could see the benefits of being able to save himself in case of future accidents in the Chocolate Room. It was just that, if he messed up today, if he couldn't learn to swim, he'd be embarrassing himself in front of a girl he was desperate to impress. He was aware that their relationship was progressing faster than either of them had originally anticipated, but was reluctant to allow himself to destroy the progress that they had made since November. _Two months._ Two months since he'd first touched her, since he'd first felt that now familiar tug in his chest that indicated he couldn't live without her. As the elevator stopped at the Pool Room he stepped out and leaned back to press the call button for Rosanna's room. The elevator doors closed and headed back up into the factory as Willy walked forward and into the impressive Pool Room.

Built to his own design but with a few necessary modifications added by the Oompa-Loompas, the Pool Room was an impressive sight. With white marble walls and floor, and a domed, stained-glass ceiling, the impossibly large room glittered with silvery light reflected from the surface of the pool. Contrary to Willy's original imaginings, the pool was not filled with exotic plants but had rather been left clear - the Oompa-Loompas vetoing the idea of plants after considering the potential hazards of the chocolatier becoming entangled in the weeds. Willy headed right and into the changing room, the entrance concealed behind a large statue.

Rosanna yawned a little as she walked out of the elevator and stared out at the room, her tiredness fading as she realised how wonderfully extravagant the Pool Room was. Frescoes decorated the walls in between vast expanses of white marble and whoever the interior designer had been, they clearly had an obsession with Roman sculpture. She let her eyes wander over a carved dolphin, wondering idly if Willy had imported it or had it made in the factory. Rosanna stepped forward and stopped - she wasn't sure where the changing rooms were and was already a little late.

"Willy, are you here?"

"Yeah, just getting changed. Not ready yet," echoed Willy's voice from the far end of the pool. Rosanna ran forward and stopped by a statue of Neptune.

"Are the changing rooms in there?"

"No - um, well mine are but yours are behind Venus." Rosanna turned and raised an eyebrow at the rather… well-developed young goddess emerging from a clamshell behind her. _Surely he hadn't designed THAT himself?_

"Okay - see you in a minute!" Rosanna darted into the changing room and quickly stripped off her clothes, pulling on her rather plain and boring one-piece swimming costume. She had others - even a bikini with a high waist that concealed the hideous scars on her stomach - but wanted to ensure she didn't terrify the poor chocolatier on his first lesson so had elected to wear the concealing, almost sexless, swimming costume. Grimacing at her reflection and pulling her hair into a ponytail, Rosanna paused for a breath before heading out into the pool area. "Willy, I'm ready."

"One moment." Rosanna sighed and started examining a plant near the entrance to her changing room - it looked like a bird of paradise flower, but it was purple. _He's been playing with genetics again_. From behind Rosanna came an odd, plastic _slap_ sound. Less than a second later came another, slightly louder than the first. _Slap._ Whatever the sound was, it was getting closer. _Slap. Slap._ She turned slowly as the sound continued, the _slap _sound approaching the edge of the pool.

"What the… oh my god," stopped Rosanna, covering her mouth with her hand and withdrawing quickly behind the statue. Concealed from view, she poked her head around Venus' hand to check what she'd just seen hanging around the side of the pool.

Willy was standing nervously, his hands hugging his elbows, in the most grotesque swimming costume Rosanna had ever seen. The costume - surely something he'd found in an antiques store - was cut to a vest shape in top and stretched down to his knees, the material cheerfully decorated in blue and purple horizontal stripes. But this, oddly, was not the most disturbing thing about Willy's appearance. Rosanna scanned down again from the top of Willy's head down his body. On his head, sensibly, Willy was wearing a swimming cap to protect his beloved locks of hair from the devastating effects of chlorine. She was not surprised to find that the purple hat was decorated with the trademarked "W" symbol. He was also wearing the goggles that she had bought him for Christmas. She was worried that he'd chosen to add a snorkel and face mask to the ensemble and more than a little concerned that the bright orange water wings and rubber ring around his waist were also things he'd considered vital to the outfit. Of course, he was still wearing his gloves - she'd yet to see him without a pair, even at night in bed, for longer than a few minutes. And on his feet… She shook her head in disbelief. At least that explained the odd sound while he walked. The bright blue flippers did little to compliment the chocolatier. His thin, pale legs stuck out of the rubber swimming aids like two twigs before disappearing back into the swimming costume at knee level. _He has bony knees_, observed Rosanna. She raised her eyes back to Willy's face as he turned to face her.

"Hi! What do you think?" Willy grinned, gesturing at the swimming costume.

"You really don't want to know." Rosanna held her forehead in one hand and sighed. Willy's smile faded and he stepped towards her.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Willy… You don't need the swimming aids. Lose the flippers. And the snorkel. And the rubber ring and water wings and…" she stopped herself. There was no way he'd have an alternative swimming costume, so asking him to remove _that_ would effectively end the lesson.

"But I'll sink! And how am I supposed to breathe?"

"Willy, please, just trust me," sighed Rosanna, stepping forward to help him.

Ten minutes later, Rosanna eased herself down into the warm water of the pool. She looked back to the edge of the pool where Willy was hugging his waist nervously, too afraid to step into the pool.

"Come on in - it's lovely and warm." Rosanna kneeled down and ducked her head underwater, shaking her ponytail out of her eyes. "It's not even deep here Willy!"

"Sure?"

"Yes!"

"In a minute." Willy edged towards the ladder and sat down between the handrails, dipping a tentative toe into the water. "It's cold."

"It is not." Rosanna kicked back and swam down to the far end of the pool, glancing back occasionally to check on whether or not there was any movement from Willy. Upon reaching the far end, she turned and saw that Willy was delicately climbing down the ladder into the pool. She smiled to herself and took a deep breath before diving down to the bottom of the pool and disappearing from view.

Willy turned and scanned the water for Rosanna. The smooth, unbroken surface glistened back at him.  
"Ros?" His voice echoed around the room. "Rosanna? Where'd you go?" He felt his heart quicken - if she was in trouble, there was no way he'd be able to help her. Wading out a little deeper until the water came up to his chest, he called again. "Rosanna?" He shot a glance at the two Oompa-Loompa lifeguards, who were chatting amongst themselves and pointing excitedly at a spot at the far end of the pool. "Help her!" shrieked Willy. "I can't…" Helplessly, Willy glanced down at the spot the Oompa-Loompas were pointing at. Unable to see anything, he slipped his hand around his nose, gulped some air and dipped his head under water, the goggles fogging up almost immediately, but not too soon for him to miss a dark shadow making its way towards him underwater. He raised his head and gulped some air. "Did we nix the idea of sharks or not?" muttered Willy to himself. The shadow approached and with a cascade of water that soaked Willy, Rosanna burst out of the pool and drew in a painful breath.

"I didn't think the pool was that long!" She shook her head and cleared her eyes of water. "What?" she asked the gaping chocolatier. Willy tore off his goggles and blinked at Rosanna.

"You swam all that way underwater?"

"Yes." Willy looked to the far end of the pool, his vision blurring a little as he tried to imagine how difficult that swim would have been.

"I thought something was wrong," said Willy quietly. "You didn't surface for ever so long."

"Sorry - habit I'm afraid. I always have to find out how deep the pool is."

"And now you know?"

"Yeah. Ready for your first lesson?"

"Mmm-hmm. What do I need to do first?"

"Well, we should go further up the pool so you don't lose your footing. And you should get your goggles back on. I'm guessing that you don't want chlorine in your eyes."

"Does it sting?"

"A little."

"Fine," he answered, slipping the goggles back on.

"This should do. Try leaning forward - I'll take the weight of the front of your body and you just see if you can kick your legs back."

"But that involves," started Willy, looking down at Rosanna. A vast expanse of uncovered skin met his eyes.

"Oh… Well, remember the fairy outfit?"

"How could I forget?" said Willy with a distracted smile.

"Well, this covers more than that ever did. Now come on." She held out her arms and Willy lowered himself into an awkward embrace, allowing Rosanna to take his weight.

"Hey - not so tight!"

"Sorry - now just try to keep your head above water and kick your legs back." Willy did as he was told, his head dipping slightly as he did so. Rosanna caught his arms in hers and held him above water. "Got you - now, kick."

Half an hour later, Willy was making slow and unsteady progress towards being able to lie almost horizontally in the water while Rosanna clutched his folded arms and led him around the shallower areas of the pool. He still wasn't kicking properly though.

"I'd like to try something - keep your legs back." She kept one hand under Willy's chest and paced around, slipping the other arm under his stomach and balancing his weight. "I want you to point your arms above your head, keep your legs straight, your head in the water and try floating okay?"

"Do I take a breath first?"

"Well, obviously," sighed Rosanna. After Willy had positioned himself, Rosanna slowly removed her arms. Willy twitched a little, but didn't move enough to sink. He floated, pencil-like for a moment, until Rosanna slipped her arms under his legs and chest and spun him around onto his back. Willy curled up automatically and slipped his arms around Rosanna's neck so that for a moment, thanks to the uplift of water taking Willy's weight, she was holding him in her arms.

"My hero," he giggled, leaning over and kissing her lightly on the cheek. "Did I do it right?"

"Yes you did, honey. Well done." Rosanna released Willy and straightened, the water lapping at her waist. Willy stood and cuddled Rosanna to his chest. The lesson continued for another twenty minutes, Willy's confidence gradually growing. Eventually however, the unaccustomed movement through water started to take its toll on the chocolatier's stamina.

"Can we stop for today?"

"Yeah, of course. Tired?"

"Achy."

"Okay." Rosanna stepped away from Willy and led the way out of the pool. She hoisted herself onto the poolside and dangled her legs down into the water, Willy joining her moments later.

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"The lesson." Willy looked sideways and smiled softly, lifting a hand and sweeping off the goggles and swimming cap as he did so. "Hey, I thought these things were supposed to keep your hair dry?"

"It's not that wet," said Rosanna, running a hand through his hair carefully. "There must have been a gap around the side."

"Ew, my hair's going to get dry and frizzy and then I'll go bald…"

"No you won't," said Rosanna quickly to calm him. "Your father hasn't."

"Hmm." Willy pulled out his hair from his head. "It's icky."

"With the amount of hair products you put on it, I'm sure it will recover."

"Sure?"

"Yes." Rosanna looked down at her feet paddling away under the surface of the water. "Nice room by the way."

"I like it. The Oompa-Loompas added these," he said, pointing at the statues behind him.

"So Venus wasn't your idea?"

"No. Certainly not," said Willy, turning red. Rosanna gave an ironic smile and reached out for Willy's hand.

"It's okay to admire the female form."

"No it's not - it's pervy and… wrong… and…" He blushed even redder and looked down.

"And you do admire it, don't you?"

"Increasingly. Recently," said Willy, glancing quickly at Rosanna before looking back at his hands. "It's your fault."

"Charming."

"Can we go get changed – I'm freezing my bu… legs off here."

"No problem – meet you by the elevator?"

"Yeah. See you in a minute."

A week later, the factory production lines were in full swing, Dr. Wonka had gone home, Willy's lessons with Rosanna were progressing swimmingly and Charlie, much to his chagrin, was back in school. The young boy yawned his way through the morning lessons, silently counting off the number of minutes that would have to pass before he was free of this place and allowed to go home to the factory he loved. Lunchtime arrived and with a certain amount of relief, Charlie fished out his pass to leave the school premises just in case he was asked for it and headed out of the school gate to go into town and get himself some lunch.

It was while Charlie was passing an elite wine bar that doubled as a meeting place for executives during their lunch hours that Charlie failed to notice something that, had he seen, would have allowed Mr. Wonka to better prepare for an unpleasant incident a few months later. Charlie however was oblivious to the clues left by Fate and bought a snack from the street vendor next door to the wine bar, barely batting an eyelid at the businessmen inside, other than to smirk at the ridiculous way they all seemed utterly engrossed in the Financial Times. Charlie skipped off and ran to join his classmates down the park for half an hour before returning to school.

One of the newspapers in the window twitched.

"Is he gone?" asked a rasping voice.

"Yes. Are you sure that was Charlie Bucket?" inquired a younger and more nervous voice than the first

"Yes. Now, if all is clear," said the first voice, lowering his newspaper and folding it onto the table, "back to business." The man smiled and if Charlie had come back at the moment, he would have gasped with shock – it was Ficklegruber. The younger man and his companion also lowered their newspapers silently, revealing the younger man to be Prodnose and the third, balding man to be Slugworth.

"Are you sure this will work?" asked Slugworth. "We don't know that Wonka's losing his touch, and if he comes out with something spectacular we could lose all."

"Of course we won't – we won't lose any more than we have at every other holiday at least. Who'd have thought that those tacky, ill-formed Christmas trees would outsell your sugar plum fairies, Prodnose, or your Christmas Pudding chewing gum, Slugworth?" Ficklegruber scowled – he had only just scraped a profit himself over the holiday season – his white chocolate Coconut Snowballs barely making the money back he'd spent on developing them. "Wonka does not have the monopoly on good ideas – it's just his image that helps to sell the candy."

"And the fact it's really good candy," mumbled Prodnose, guiltily. As a young chocolatier, he had tried desperately to make his chocolate as good as Wonka's, only to have to admit defeat and indulge his love for the Wonka chocolate bars behind closed doors. He'd taken the offer of secret recipes from Ficklegruber almost fifteen years previously and had started small, trying out the recipes himself and hoping that something, some ingredient, would be the secret to perfect chocolate. The capitalist in him had rejoiced when the Wonka factory had temporarily closed, while the chocolate lover in him had felt incredibly guilty at the solemn look on Wonka's face behind the iron gate as he announced the closure. The same inner capitalist was appalled when Prodnose had immediately run out to buy a Wonka bar upon the factory's grand reopening.

"Really good? You think that the crackpot's candy is any better than ours?" snorted Slugworth.

"Of course not," mumbled Prodnose quickly, "but people do like it."

"That's because of good marketing. The man's a genius as far as that goes."

"A pity that our reputations were so badly damaged when that buffoon realised we'd been borrowing his recipes," growled Ficklegruber.

"I believe the term for what we did is industrial espionage," said Prodnose quietly.

"Reverse engineering would have produced the same results eventually," justified Slugworth.

"No it wouldn't."

"Prodnose, are you in on this or not?" snapped Ficklegruber.

"Of course. How could I not be?" _It's not like I have a choice._ Prodnose had actually made a loss during the Christmas season – something unheard of in the confectionery industry. He knew that Slugworth had broken even and Ficklegruber had made a slight profit. If he was to keep his father's "two-bit sweet shop" as Slugworth had called it, he was going to need some money. Fast.

"So, what's the plan? We band together and come up with a new product for Easter. Then what?" asked Slugworth.

"We make sure it outsells Wonka's product," said Ficklegruber with a grin.

"How? He always has the best ideas at Easter – I remember him saying that the Easter bunny was his muse!" said Prodnose without thinking. The conversation had taken place a lifetime ago, when the four chocolatiers had been establishing themselves and Wonka had only just appeared on the scene in his first chocolate shop.

"We make sure that however good the candy, no-one wants to buy it," said Ficklegruber calmly.

"How?" asked Slugworth.

"Well, we can't steal the recipes. We can't change the fact that the candy is the most favoured world-wide. But…"

"But?" said Prodnose and Slugworth together.

"We can change how much the world loves Wonka."

"You mean, destroy the man, not the candy?" asked Prodnose in horror. Slugworth gave a slow grin and Ficklegruber relaxed back on his chair.

"Precisely."

Oblivious to the machinations of his most hated rivals, Willy picked out a Biscotti Hottie from the samples in front of him and bit into it.

"Mmm, not bad – can taste the butter…" he mumbled through the crispy candy. "Oh here it comes… Wow!" he shrieked, fanning his tongue as the full heat of the chilies burned his tongue. "Water!" An obliging Oompa-Loompa ran over with a glass of water and Willy downed half the glass before remembering to gargle and clear the taste from his mouth. He spat the water out down the garbage disposal. "Too hot – try it with only 3/4 of the chili peppers." The Oompa-Loompa nodded and returned to the mixing section of the production line. "Good work though – it's just the aftertaste we need to work on!" He touched his hat to the Oompa-Loompas and headed out of the Biscotti Hotties room, intent on walking back to the Inventing Room a few doors away. He was interrupted by his pager beeping quietly in his pocket. Willy sighed and pulled out the offending object, reading the message from Rosanna with a slight grin. Deciding that the Inventing Room could wait until after lunch, he headed for the elevator instead.

"Glad you came," said Rosanna with a smile as Willy walked into his office. "I didn't fancy eating alone today."

"What's up?" asked the chocolatier, sitting down opposite Rosanna and reaching for a chicken wing.

"I was thinking that maybe, seeing as how it's the New Year, I might start looking for a new job."" She winced as Willy dropped the chicken wing onto his plate.

"Ros – I don't see why you need to work. You don't need money – I'll buy you anything you need. We've been over this before."

"I know but, well, I'm getting a little… bored."

"Bored?" asked Willy, his eyebrows furrowing in hurt confusion. "How could you be bored? Here, of all places?"

"Because sometimes I'm on my own for hours and hours – take yesterday."

"Yesterday was an exception."

"No, it wasn't. You were gone before I woke up and I didn't see you again until dinner. By the time we left the Bucket's house and we'd finished in the Pool Room, you were exhausted and fell asleep by eleven. Then you were gone again before I woke up this morning."

"I'll try to spend more time with you. I promise."

"But Willy – I still have no-one to talk to!"

"Mrs Bucket?"

"She's nice, but she's busy all day."

"You could always help her out," suggested Willy. "I'm sure she'd appreciate the offer."

"Willy – I miss the outside world."

"Why? There's nothing good out there," he hugged himself uncomfortably.

"Not even the restaurant?"

"Oh, it's okay to visit, but you can't deny that there are some horrible things out there as well that quite take the shine off the nice stuff."

"Willy, you're not going to go all insular on me again are you?"

"No. Of course not. But just because I leave the factory a few times a month now it doesn't mean I like the outside world. I've seen the cruel and hard place it can be Rosanna – I don't want to be a part of it any more than I have to be. And I don't want you out there either."

"Even if that's what I want?" she asked quietly.

"Ros – aren't you happy here?"

"Yes, of course I am. I just don't want to be trapped here all day."

"Trapped?"

"Maybe that's not the best way to describe it…"

"No, maybe it is." Willy stood and paced over to the window. "Cabin fever," he muttered to the town outside.

"I guess," answered Rosanna quietly. "I also feel useless, just wandering around here all day, waiting for someone to ask me to do something. I can't relax, I can't help anyone and I'm just a leech." She stood and lowered her glass to the table.

"If I found you a job inside the factory, would that help?"

"I would still miss everything out there," said Rosanna, gesturing out of the window and drawing level with Willy.

"I've never stopped you going out – if you want to leave at any time, go. Just let someone know where you're going or at least when you'll be back."

"Willy, I'm not a child."

"No, but you are the only person I've ever fallen in love with. I can't allow you to put your safety on the line again just because you're bored."

"When have I ever done that?"

"You could have told me you were staying in the gross hotel. You could have used the money I gave you to rent a better hotel room. You didn't even cash the cheque."

"I didn't think…"

"That is obvious," said Willy coldly. "If you won't watch out for your safety, someone has to."

"What are you so afraid of Willy? The bogeyman perhaps?" snapped Rosanna.

"Don't mock me Rosanna," growled Willy. "I've seen them – the people who are the destroyers of dreams. You saw one that night you were attacked."

"But there are so many more good people out there…"

"No, there are not! There are just as many evil as good people! And the sad fact is that both are outnumbered by the basic human being, neither good nor bad, who will apathetically allow the good and the bad to influence the world while complaining to themselves and doing nothing to help just so long as it continues to benefit them. You really think wars would happen if everyone on both sides ignored the general and just said no?"

"It's not that easy. You know that."

"Let's try this – do you really think that my factory would have closed if the public had refused to buy Ficklegruber's ice cream? But no, they saw the same ice cream at a cheaper price and regardless of the moral cost they went with Ficklegruber. The average member of the public doesn't care about his fellow human beings anymore. I doubt most of them even know their neighbour's name."

"Willy – you're being irrational."

"Am I?" asked Willy, resting his head against the cold glass and staring out at the town. "Am I really?"

"Yes. People are not all bad."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," sighed Willy, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. "They just scare the wits out of me, and the thought of sending you out there to mix with them is just too painful."

"If it means that much to you," said Rosanna quietly, "Find me something to do inside the factory. But I'm still going out. I will of course let you know when and where, if yo insist on that,and I'llbe back to spend the evenings with you."

"Fine. That's all I ask – just make sure you are safe."

"Just like Charlie does?"

"Yes. Just like Charlie." Willy reached over for Rosanna and hugged her to his chest. "I'm sorry I haven't been around much recently."

"I know that you're starting up the production lines again. It won't take long to sort out will it?"

"No. I've nearly ironed out the problem with the Biscotti Hotties. We changed the filter and suddenly they became inedible. But we've almost solved the problem now. Ros?"

"Yes?"

"Don't get fed up of me."

"I won't. Even if you are irrational sometimes."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

That evening, as the extended family within the world's largest chocolate factory was settling down to dinner, in a dark room in the basement of Ficklegruber's shop, a plot was being hatched to disgrace Willy Wonka and bring about his ruin. On a rude table, around which the three allies Ficklegruber, Prodnose and Slugworth were gathered, lay a pile of newspaper clippings from the last year.

"I knew these would come in useful," sneered Ficklegruber.

"Look at the state on the Bucket family – what do you think happened?" asked Slugworth, pointing at a photograph of the fire from December.

"No idea – maybe part of his ego combusted."

"Who's the girl?" asked Prodnose.

"Just some relative of the Buckets I suppose," said Slugworth.

"No, my dear friend, she is not," said Ficklegruber with a sly smile. "I've had the factory watched since the fire and well, let's just say it was worth my while." He produced a stack of photographs showing Willy and Rosanna walking in the park and embracing on the bench.

"Didn't think he was that type," muttered Slugworth. "Always had him down as a pansy."

"Or something far worse," said Ficklegruber, throwing over a photograph of Willy hugging Charlie with a brilliant smile on his face. Prodnose swallowed uncomfortably. _I didn't_, he thought.

"So what? He's got an heir and a girlfriend – there's nothing wrong with that," said Prodnose out loud, quelling the argument in his mind against doing this to arguably the most brilliant mind in the business.

"Ah, but you fail to understand," said Ficklegruber. "Did you see this?" he asked, pushing forward an old newspaper that led with an article of the night at the circus. Slugworth and Prodnose both gave a laugh at the disgusted expression on Wonka's face as a blonde, scantily clad trapeze artist forced a kiss onto his lips. "Flick through to page four," said Ficklegruber, leering slightly. A picture of Willy en route to ground zero dominated the page, together with the headline "Chocolatier Narrowly Escapes Death During Show."

"Oh yes, I remember. There was something on the news," said Prodnose. "It all blew over though – Wonka didn't sue and the circus left town."

"Don't you think that's a little odd?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if a clumsy performer had almost killed you, would you have left them to go on their way?"

"No, but I'm not Wonka. You know he hates lawyers – that's the only reason that we're still in business." Prodnose looked back at the article and studied the picture of Wonka's rescue. "Hey, isn't that?"

"The girl in the photographs? Yes." Ficklegruber smiled. "Suppose that there was a particular reason that Wonka didn't want extra publicity over the night at the circus – something he'd done to ensure that the circus left without a fuss? Something that this girl was helping him to cover up."

"There isn't, is there?" asked Slugworth.

"No, of course not. Wonka was shaken by the experience and from all accounts visited the showground briefly the next day, didn't even get out of that blasted elevator of his and holed himself back up in that factory. But suppose we bent the truth a little…"

"In what way?" asked Prodnose, a sinking feeling in his stomach warning him of what was to come.

"That dear blonde girl could have had some seriously good publicity out of Wonka's act with her if only he hadn't fallen. He somewhat ruined the performance for her. Suppose that he also took out some revenge on her? Some kind of embarrassing, painful revenge that she was too shaken to talk about until now?"

"He didn't! He's not the type! No-one would believe it!" protested Prodnose.

"These photographs would suggest otherwise," said Ficklegruber, producing a photograph of Willy kissing Rosanna on the park bench. "He seems to be enjoying himself."

"That girl – the blonde – she hasn't said anything yet. Why would she suddenly come forward and help us?"

"Because Elaina and I have been in contact for a few weeks now and she's still quite bitter about the incident with Wonka. But she is even more desperate to get her revenge on Rosanna, this young lady," said Ficklegruber, lighting a cigar and blowing smoke at a photograph of Rosanna pelting Willy with snowballs. "It seems that Ms Derby was disliked at the circus and was directly responsible for the act with Wonka failing to give Elaina the coverage she wanted in the newspapers. Elaina was quite keen to 'make her pay' when I caught up with her."

"You can't do this – this is beyond stealing candies."

"I know – we're talking accusations of rape and blackmail now," said Ficklegruber with a slight smile. "Of course, Elaina will be paid well to lie for us in court. And when all this is over, she can go back to her life at the circus happy in the knowledge that Rosanna's life has been destroyed."

"He could go to prison – it would finish him!" cried Prodnose.

"That's rather the idea," said Ficklegruber sinisterly.

"Good plan. When do we start?" asked Slugworth.

"Elaina arrives in a few days. Let's not meet until Saturday – I'll bring Elaina along. Shall we say eleven at the Orange Tree?"

"Yes," agreed Slugworth, rising and shaking Ficklegruber's hand. "I'll see you then." He turned and left the room.

"Yes," said Prodnose, looking down and leaving quickly. Ficklegruber waited until Prodnose was out of the room before stalking off to a telephone in the corner. He dialled the number quickly and waited for a response.

"It's as we feared," he informed the person on the other end of the telephone. "I think we might need to have Prodnose followed as well. He just left." Ficklegruber hung up the telephone. His contacts were unaware of the plot against Wonka, and perhaps that was just as well. If it were to fail, he still had Slugworth to blame all of this on. The man was vain and stupid enough to convince that this had all been his idea after all. But Prodnose might be a spanner in the works. One that would have to be quickly removed if he should try to interfere with Ficklegruber's plan.

_How naïve of them,_ thought Ficklegruber_. In this world of multi-national corporations and Wonka's massive chocolate empire, did they really think I'd be happy to share success?_ He smiled to himself. If the plan worked, he had enough money to buy more of the Wonka factory than the other two. If it failed, Wonka's credibility would still have been dented and Slugworth would be there to take the blame. Prodnose was no threat._ Either way, they lose_._ And I win. Checkmate._

**For a wonderful image of Willy's swimming costume, please visit my adored beta-reader's site at shino-tenshi dot deviantart dot com slash. Go through to gallery and then scraps for the swimming picture. Thank you, thank you for that image Wonkamatic. There are some other, interesting, works of art there, concerning Willy and Rosanna, as well as many others that are well worth a look. Many thanks for everything so far Wonkamatic. :)**

Many thanks to Cadenza Cavatina, Clockwork Plum, MaRaMa-TSG, Vampirehelsing and The Wonkamatic for reviewing.


	24. The four chocolatiers

_**A reminder of the warning given a few chapters ago - fluff and uberfluff is a risk from now on. Note the rating change and read at your own peril. That is all.**_

The first day of February dawned with uncharacteristic brightness. The first crocuses of spring were in full bloom and the birds sang a cheery early morning tune in the fields and streets outside the chocolate factory. Inside his bedroom, tucked away in the house secluded in the Chocolate Room meadow, Charlie Bucket stretched and yawned. A year ago today he'd leapt out of bed and been washed and dressed in five minutes flat, hopping on one leg by the door within another few minutes as he impatiently waited for Grandpa Joe to get ready to go on the tour of Wonka's chocolate factory. And now here he was, living inside the very factory he'd so long admired. True, it hadn't been quite a year since his family had moved in, but it very soon would be.

Charlie rolled over onto his stomach and gazed out of the window, his chin resting on his hands as he watched the early morning Oompa-Loompas harvesting the candy fruits growing freely in the meadow. He yawned softly as he remembered his life before all of this and Charlie felt a rush of gratitude towards Willy Wonka for rescuing him and his family from their life of poverty. Allowing his eyes to drift freely over the swudge, Charlie spied a red love apple bush (Mrs. Bucket had, by the way, tried to explain to Willy Wonka that love apples were in fact tomatoes, but the chocolatier had not been convinced, particularly as he'd created a bush of sweet, sugar filled love apples that said otherwise).

The pre-teen was facing a dilemma common to many secondary school boys around February time. He had a crush on a girl called Amanda at school and he had to think of a good Valentine's present for her. Charlie had thought that maybe a box of Wonka's chocolates would suffice, but then he'd rejected the idea in case she thought he hadn't put much effort into the gift. But a bushel of love apples in a basket with a bow… Charlie grinned as he imagined how pleased Amanda would be, but then his smile froze. If she rejected his gift, he'd be left carrying a basket of sweet, sticky fruit around all day. _Hmm. Perplexing, _thought Charlie. Maybe roses would be safer - no, a single rose. He could always bin it if she turned him down. The Valentine's disco was the Saturday after Valentine's Day - he could give her the rose and ask her out the same time. _Perfect._

While walking to school, Charlie passed his favourite sweet shop. In the window, proudly displayed, were the Valentine's chocolates on offer from the four chocolatiers in town, each clambering for attention in the small display case. Wonka's Lovebirds Candy looked set to be a winner, together with his usual Chocolate Kisses and Rosy Lollipops. Ficklegruber had made a fair attempt at a product Charlie was not surprised was missing from the window display - Amorous Ice Cream. Charlie couldn't see anything particularly impressive about an ice cream that would melt at just under body temperature, or why there would be anything amorous about it. When he'd questioned his mother about it, she'd muttered something about telling him when he was older and gone back to her cooking. Willy had been similarly nonplussed by the idea, although Rosanna had walked out of the room giggling quietly while Willy drawled, "It's not even his idea - it's my recipe that he's somehow got wrong so that it melts at 36 and not at 60 degrees Celsius!" Charlie was determined to find out why the ice cream was selling so well, but knew that his answers would have to come from a source other than the factory. Deciding to ask his friends - although possibly not Sally or Amanda, given Rosanna's reaction - Charlie trudged onwards to school.

Back at the chocolate factory, Willy pottered around in the Inventing Room, checking and re-checking the new gobstopper machine. It had taken some time to rebuild and was still not operating at peak efficiency. As he adjusted a few more dials and frowned at the latest gobstopper, testing the size with a pair of callipers, Rosanna walked into the room behind him and sneaked up to the machine. Quietly, she leaned over and ran a gentle hand through Willy's hair.

"Yargh!" shouted Willy, the callipers and gobstoppper dropping into the tank in front of him. He turned quickly and relaxed a little as he saw Rosanna standing next to him. "You scared the life out of me!"

"Not true," she answered with a smile. "I was wondering what you had planned for the Buckets tonight.

"Nothing."

"But hasn't it been a year since you offered them the chance to move in?"

"Not quite. It's been a year since I offered Charlie, but the Buckets moved in about three weeks later than the competition."

"Oh - are you planning anything for them?"

"Like a party you mean?"

"Yes."

"That could be fun," said Willy seriously, his forehead puckering a little as he considered the idea. "I suppose I have to mark the occasion. I hadn't really thought about it. Thanks for thinking of it."

"No problem."

"Anything else I should be planning for?"

"Well, Valentine's…" started Rosanna, but then stopped herself.

"I've already sent the orders out," mumbled Willy, signalling to a snorkel-clad Oompa-Loompa in the tank before him to pass up the callipers.

"I didn't mean - never mind. What time shall I call you for lunch?"

"About one," said Willy, already examining another gobstopper.

"Fine." Rosanna walked out and Willy continued examining the Everlasting Gobstoppers until he was absolutely convinced his adjustments were correct. Placing the callipers delicately into a tray, he shot the door of the Inventing Room an amused grin.

"Nice try Rosanna. But I'm not about to spoil the surprise." He removed his coat, reached under the bench behind him and pulled out a white lab coat and safety glasses before heading towards the Dark Corner, a newly-erected area where he was testing a new type of chewy candy that, unfortunately, had the tendency to swell up and glue the tester's teeth together sometimes. Humming to himself, Willy continued working.

Prodnose paced up and down and ran a hand through his scant hair. He hadn't slept well since his last meeting with Ficklegruber and Slugworth where they'd finally been introduced to the mysterious Elaina. She'd seemed pretty enough, but there was a cold, calculating streak running through her that quite negated any appeal. Prodnose had also noticed that despite her ambition and turn of phrase, the girl was not actually that intelligent. Elaina had listened intently as Ficklegruber had explained that all she had to do was spin a few untruths in court and then had obediently taken the 'story' to learn for their later meetings. Over the last month, Ficklegruber had convinced her to build lie upon lie until Prodnose, a silent observer, had almost started to believe the lies himself. First of all, Elaina had been prepared to say that Wonka had made lewd comments to her on the trapeze. Then that he'd grabbed hold of her backstage. Now she was able to describe again and again, flawlessly, how he'd forced her to kiss him. Each time the story was repeated, Ficklegruber would 'suggest' another embellishment and the foolish girl would incorporate it into the tale. Prodnose poured himself a drink and gulped down the cheap whiskey. _This isn't right._ Stealing recipes - that had been different. That was business. This was personal. And cruel. It wouldn't be long now until Elaina was swearing blind that Wonka had raped and beaten her, then forced her to remain silent lest her father's circus be brought to financial ruin. He threw his glass into the fireplace and leaned on the mantel for support. _I have no choice. I have to let it happen. _

Brushing an errant strand of hair from her shoulders, Elaina regarded her face in the mirror carelessly. She was in high spirits and looking forward to her lunch with Ficklegruber later that day. That – charming – old man had certainly come up with an ingenious way of giving her what she wanted. A little notoriety would certainly help her on her way to becoming famous. She wondered if this stunt could help her out of the circus and into the musicals she so wanted to perform in. And on top of everything, if Ficklegruber was right, that smarmy bitch Rosanna was going to get her comeuppance as well. So she'd managed to worm her way into Wonka's affections had she? Well, that was easy enough to destroy. _No happy-ever-after for you Rosanna, you silly little equestrian_. Elaina smiled at her reflection and reached for her hairdryer. _Maybe next time you'll think twice before butting into my performance._

Ficklegruber dipped a spoon into a tub of strawberry flavoured Amorous Ice Cream and lifted it out, inspecting the ice cream carefully for any sign of imperfection. He lifted the spoon to his lips and kissed the spoon delicately, allowing the ice cream to melt onto his lips before licking them clean with a quick flick of his tongue. _Simply exquisite._ He picked another, fresh, tub of ice cream and slipped it into his briefcase before checking his watch. It was twenty to one. Ficklegruber walked out of his shop and smiled broadly at Slugworth, who was standing next to an old Daimler.

"Ah, so you brought the good car?" said Ficklegruber by way of greeting.

"Only the best for our Miss Elaina," replied Slugworth. "Especially after what she's been through."

"Hmm," agreed Ficklegruber, sighing to himself as he entered the back of the car. While Slugworth negotiated the lunchtime traffic, Ficklegruber despaired at his colleague's lack of intelligence. The fool was actually starting to believe that Wonka had attacked Elaina. Perhaps it was for the best – if asked to testify, at least Slugworth would be convincing. Ficklegruber looked up at the rear view window and smirked at the look of intense concentration on Slugworth's face. _Odd how the big ape hasn't even noticed he's been demoted to chauffeur yet._ There was something very satisfying about the way Slugworth was now deferring to Ficklegruber, and the latter chocolatier expected the idiot to start calling him 'sir' any day now. _And then, _thought Ficklegruber, _after the damage is done, who better to take the blame than Lurch?_

One o' clock arrived with rather less ceremony than one would have expected. In various locations around the town and surrounding countryside, all those connected with Willy Wonka and his factory continued with their lives. In the bistro where Charlie had observed a bundle of fluttering newspapers a few weeks earlier, Elaina and Ficklegruber went over the story 'one more time' and Ficklegruber convinced Elaina to add in that Wonka had "pushed her onto a bench." Charlie sat down next to Sally and John at lunch and asked them which colour rose he should give Amanda, given that red was traditional but pink was her favourite colour. Mr Bucket packed up his lunch-box and headed back to inspect the machines in the toothpaste factory. Prodnose poured himself another drink and hiccupped quietly. Mrs Bucket lifted her hand to her head and wiped her brow, pausing for only a second before continuing with the ironing. Slugworth tapped the steering wheel in time to the music from the radio while he waited in the car for Elaina and Ficklegruber. The four grandparents slept on. Dr Wonka extracted a rather gross premolar from an elderly patient. And Willy and Rosanna sat down for lunch in the Lookout Tower.

"Ros?"

"Yes?"

"Do you like orange flavoured chocolate?" asked Willy through a mouthful of chicken.

"Yes. But I prefer mint."

"No, mint chocolate wouldn't work. Unless I made the grass out of mint…" Willy drifted off again.

"Must you brainstorm over lunch?"

"Sorry," said Willy sheepishly, looking down. "I was just thinking of something for Easter."

"I know. It's just a little odd to be thinking of chocolate Easter bunnies in February."

"It's not my fault – I'm already getting orders from sweetshops for Easter delivery!" Willy sighed and closed his eyes, trying not to think about the need to invent a new chocolate or candy by the end of the week. "How was your morning?"

"Well, I inspected everything just like you told me to, but I couldn't find anything wrong. And I learned another word in Loompish."

"What word?" asked Willy, looking up. Rosanna crossed her hands over her chest and tilted her head to the right side.

"That means 'okay,' right?"

"Right. Well done." Willy looked thoughtful for a moment. "Do you have a passport?"

"Yes – why?"

"No reason," he said quickly, going back to playing with his food and constructing a small fort out of celery sticks.

"Are you thinking of taking me somewhere?" asked Rosanna, coaxing for information.

"No."

"For Valentine's Day?"

"No."

"Sure?"

"Yes."

"Yes you're sure or yes you're taking me somewhere?" nagged Rosanna.

"Purple."

"What?"

"The rabbit's bonnet needs to be purple – or maybe I should make it a top hat? Hey – we could do chocolate Wonka bunnies!" Willy giggled and started scribbling a picture on the doodle pad next to him. A few moments later he presented Rosanna with a rather cute drawing of an Easter bunny wearing a top hat and gloves and carrying a candy cane. A carefully sketched 'W' at the rabbit's throat completed the caricature.

"Pretty," Rosanna reluctantly critiqued. "But could you please answer the question?"

"Yes, I could."

"Are you…"

"Then again, just because I could, doesn't mean I will," Willy continued, all the while adding little lettuce flags to his celery fort. Rosanna considered pressing the issue further, then realised it would be pointless to do so. She watched as Willy stopped playing with his food and smiled.

"Fancy a walk later?"

"Where?"

"Just to the park. It's such a nice day."

"Okay," Willy agreed with a shrug and looked up at Rosanna's slightly shocked expression. "What is it?"

"No arguments? No insistence that inside is just as nice as out there?"

"It's only an hour or so. Besides, as Dad said," Willy took a breath and lowered his voice to the booming baritone of his father, "you, young lady, have had quite an effect on young Willy. He's certainly come out of his shell." Rosanna broke into giggles and Willy grinned at her, pleased that he could make her laugh so freely. "Maybe out there isn't so bad," he added in his normal treble before taking a swig of orange juice.

Two weeks passed. Outside the factory, the rival chocolatiers continued their plot against Willy Wonka. Meanwhile, inside the factory, Rosanna found herself attempting to spy on Willy in his free moments, hoping to find out what her Valentine's surprise was. She had used the occasion to break habit and buy some non-sensible nightwear, her favourite being a skimpy black negligee that would leave little to the imagination. Hopefully, if she wore that on the trip, even Willy would find it difficult to miss the point of time away from the factory. Sneaking up the corridor to Willy's room on the evening of the thirteenth, Rosanna flattened herself against the wall and slinked silently to the door of the bedroom. She soundlessly unlocked it and turned the handle slowly, pushing the door slightly ajar as she did so. Just as carefully, she inched into the room and scanned the shadows for movement before shutting the door. Nothing. The moonlight lit a clear patch of floor in front of the window and Rosanna used a few precious minutes to allow her eyes to adjust to the gloom. Closing the door, she pressed forward and crept to the dressing table, pulling the drawer open and rummaging for the contents. Her hand hammered on the empty drawer lining and Rosanna responded by clicking on the table lamp. She looked down into the drawer, and frowned. Where there should have been a pile of papers, there was a single piece of paper, no bigger than a postage stamp. She picked it up and squinted at the tiny writing.

_Look behind you._

Groaning inwardly, Rosanna did as instructed. Behind her, perched on a chest of drawers next to a wardrobe so that his shadow would have been hidden from her observation point at the door, was Willy. A slightly sarcastic, sympathetic look was painted on his face and he tutted at her while shaking his head.

"I'm afraid you've failed your training, Azumi. Perhaps ninja school isn't right for you."

"How did you know?"

"I've had you followed over the last few days. I wanted to know why you've been looking shifty." Willy jumped down from the chest of drawers.

"Shifty?"

"Like you were up to something." He crossed to her and twirled her into a tight embrace, his chest pressed against her back with her arms pinned to her sides. "Maybe you were stealing recipe ideas, or looking for money, I know what you carnies are like," he purred into her ear, grinning as he did so.

"I was not stealing from you!"

"How can I be sure?"

"You could search me if you like," replied Rosanna, pressing a little closer to him and expecting him to back off. Her laugh caught in her throat as Willy ran his hands up and down her arms before travelling to her hips and sliding up the curve of her waist.

"Nope, nothing there," he muttered, stroking down her body and crouching to allow his hands to travel down the outside of her legs. He ran his hands lightly up her legs again, slightly catching the hem of her skirt as he straightened up. Trembling at his own behaviour, Willy rested his hands on Rosanna's hips and smiled softly. "You don't appear to be carrying anything," he muttered.

"Sure you've checked everywhere?" asked Rosanna tartly, lowering her eyes to her top.

"Everywhere I intend checking." Willy raised a hand and giggled behind it as he caught Rosanna's meaning. "Oh, I see." He bit his lip and clenched his right hand a few times, steadying himself with his left hand that was now clamped vice-like on Rosanna's hip. "I don't think this is appropriate." Nevertheless, he allowed his eyes to travel to Rosanna's v-neck top and he only slightly shook as they travelled down the V to her cleavage.

"You don't have to," reassured Rosanna.

"But I thought you wanted me to?" asked Willy, confused.

"Yes, but if you dislike it this much," sighed Rosanna, the mood now somewhat spoiled for her.

"I didn't say I disliked it, it's just that they're definitely off-limits."

"Says who?"

"Guess," muttered Willy darkly.

"When?"

"When I had _that _talk with him years ago." Rosanna sighed and gave Willy a lop-sided grin.

"Times change," she whispered, freeing her arms. She pulled Willy into a kiss and then, when she was sure he was distracted, gently brought his hand down to her chest and held it there. Willy pulled back and looked down at his hand as though it had offended him. He brought up his left hand and gently prised her hand off his, keeping his right hand in place. He flexed his fingers and improved his grip, drawing a surprised gasp from Rosanna who had been expecting him to release her.

"Was that wrong?" asked Willy worriedly, moving his hand slightly.

"No, not at all!" she insisted, clutching it to her chest to stop him moving away from her. "Carry on if you like."

"This wasn't supposed to happen," mumbled Willy, removing his hat and lowering his head for a kiss. "Oh well…"

The barkeeper regarded the drunk at the end of the bar with some disdain. It wasn't as if he had anything against drunks - if he had, he would have felt compelled to find another vocation. This particular drunk, however, was not good for business - far from the merry, bawdy drunks having a good time and advertising the virtues of drinking hard liquor, this was a drunk on a mission to simply become even more inebriated in as efficient a way as possible while giving off an aura of depression that was slowly but surely clearing the bar area around him. The whiskey he was downing was the cheapest brand as well and the barkeep was not sure that continuing to fuel this man's habit was altogether economically sensible. He drew upon his limited reserve of small-talk and walked over to the man, whose head was now bowed down to bar level.

"Another drink please," slurred the drunk.

"Haven't you had enough?" asked the barman, polishing a glass with a cloth.

"Not yet."

"Woman problems?" He leaned forward and noticed a name badge on the man's chest. "Did Mrs. Prodnose throw you out?"

"No, mother would never do that." Prodnose moaned and lifted his glass feebly. "Drink!" Obligingly, curious now that he'd found out who this drunk was, the barman topped up his customer's glass.

"What is it then?"

"I've become the lowest form of life. Cheers." Prodnose took a swig of the whiskey and missed, swallowing only half the shot.

"Bad lot of chocolate?"

"You have no idea how bad."

"I saw that Wonka's stock has gone back up again."

"Good for Wonka."

"Is that why you're depressed?"

"No. I'm pleased for him. He deserves it. Another drink please." Prodnose emptied out his coin purse onto the bar. "What will this get me?"

"One more drink."

"Take it and deliver the drink please." Prodnose watched as the amber fluid poured into his glass and allowed a quiet tear to fall down his cheek. "How do you stop the inevitable?"

"Sorry?" asked the barkeep.

"If you knew something was going to happen, would you try to stop it?"

"Maybe. Like what?" Prodnose drained his glass and exhaled loudly before answering.

"Like - see this glass?" The barman nodded and watched without any real interest. The quiet ones always ended their drinking sessions like this - the empty glass serving as a metaphor for whatever their particular problem was.

"Yes."

"It's brilliant - it's perfect. And I want you to imagine that every other glass envies it."

"The other glasses…"

"Envy it. And one day they push the glass off the shelf and poof! It's broken. Even though it can be glued back together, the cracks will still show. And that's what's happening. And I can't stop it."

"You can't stop the glass from breaking?"

"No. And it's because I'm a coward. Just a two-bit shopkeeper with no balls." He belched softly. "I need to leave." Prodnose stood and wound his way to the door.

"You're not driving?"

"Me? Drive? No - not trustworthy enough. I have to watch the shop," laughed Prodnose. "Just a worthless, spineless, lump of…" Prodnose slumped next to the door of the bar and crawled outside to the sound of laughter from the bar room.

Willy lay back on his bed and smiled up at Rosanna as she leaned down to kiss him again. At some point, his coat and waistcoat had been removed and his body arched automatically at Rosanna's tickling touch. He allowed his eyes to wander over Rosanna's form freely. She'd removed her own top and apart form the initial fear of quite so much flesh, Willy found that he did prefer the sight of her in a white lacy brassiere and tight skirt to the sight of her fully clothed. Timidly, he ran his hands up Rosanna's sides again and gently cupped her breasts in his hands.

"Mmm, soft," mumbled Willy just before kissing Rosanna again. She moved down on top of him and returned the kiss, pressing into his body firmly, fighting the urge to rush him to the next stage. She shuffled her hips involuntarily as Willy's hand wound around her back and pulled her over and onto her side, Willy rolling with her into a tight embrace but breaking the kiss.

"I love you," breathed Rosanna.

"I know. Would you mind if we…"

"Stopped? Not at all." Rosanna smiled and stroked Willy's hair gently.

"How about if we didn't stop?" asked Willy in barely more than a whisper.

"Oh Willy! Of course not!" She kissed him rather more enthusiastically this time and started unbuttoning his shirt, running her hands over his chest once she had finished.

"Knew I should have worn a vest," moaned Willy, closing his eyes.

"Glad you didn't." Rosanna leaned over and planted a trail of kisses across his chest, working her way down to waist level. Willy let out a moan and gently pulled her up to his chest.

"You know that neck thing?" he asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"Would you mind doing it again?" Rosanna straddled Willy in response and lowered her mouth to his neck, blowing a stream of air across the nape of his neck before kissing it gently. "Oh yes," moaned the chocolatier.

"More?" asked Rosanna, nipping at his neck to elucidate her intention.

"Please," gasped Willy. His body jolted as Rosanna sank her teeth into his neck and his breathing quickened with every exploring touch from her hands. _She knows what to do. Just let her take charge. _His eyes shot open as he felt Rosanna slip off her skirt. _Just try to relax. Not too much, obviously, but… Oh don't touch me there! _He let out a small cry of terror and looked over at Rosanna. She smiled reassuringly and kissed him, guiding his hands to her waist. _I want you. I didn't even know what that meant until tonight and now I… I… I can't do this. It changes people. I won't be me anymore. It'll all be over when she finally gets what she wants._ Willy pulled back from Rosanna and sat up, his head in his hands. She touched his back lightly. "Willy?"

"Ros - I'm scared!" He thumped an irritated hand down onto the duvet and gave a quiet sob. "I'm too scared!"

"It's okay."

"No it's not! I… I want to hold you so much, but…"

"I don't mind - it's okay. We'll take it slow."

"How much slower can we go Rosanna?" snapped Willy. He stood and walked over to the dressing table, leaning on it heavily. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout at you." He rubbed his eyes with his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I didn't even notice." She slipped off the bed and grabbed for her skirt, putting it on before walking over to Willy. Tears streaked his face and he looked sorely disappointed with himself. "Can I have a hug?" asked Rosanna quietly.

"Of course," said Willy, wrapping his arms around her. _Idiot. You blasted idiot. Now she'll never do that to you again and you can't really blame her, can you?_

"I didn't mean to spook you."

"You didn't. I spooked myself." Willy kissed Rosanna's forehead lightly and looked down. "Is it really all that great?"

"Yes. If you're with the right person."

"Am I the right person?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't it change you?"

"I suppose so. I don't think it would change you for the worse though Willy."

"I know. But I might be really awful and then you'd leave. Or maybe once we have… it… you won't want to be with me again."

"Do you really think I'm that shallow?"

"No! Oh no, I've done it again," groaned Willy. "Sorry - my mouth and brain haven't been in regular contact for a while now. Just in time for Valentine's as well." He walked off and sat on the end of the bed. After a moment of silence, Rosanna joined him.

"Why are you so worried about me leaving you?"

"Because I couldn't live without you."

"Sure you could. You'd still have the chocolate."

"It's not enough. Not anymore." Rosanna looked up and gaped - she'd never expected him to say that. "You're so beautiful," whispered Willy, stroking the outline of Rosanna's face with one hand. He watched her reaction carefully and noticed something he hadn't seen before. "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"When I touched your face just now - you flinched."

"Did I?"

"And you don't look comfortable. Am I hurting you?" Willy moved his hand from Rosanna's face and frowned.

"No - it's just that your gloves are not really designed for touching. They feel - unnatural."

"Oh."

"Could you take them off?"

"I suppose I could," said Willy, looking down at his hand and studying the palm carefully. "It's not something I ever really considered."

"Want me to help?" Rosanna didn't wait for a reply but immediately took Willy's left hand in both of hers. Slowly, watching Willy's face all the while, she rolled up the glove until his wrist was fully exposed. She blew across the skin and traced the line of the tendons down his arm. She kissed the pulse-point gently, drawing a shudder and a gasp from the enraptured chocolatier. Rosanna slowly peeled off the glove, kissing and nibbling each finger as it was exposed in turn before embracing Willy's naked hand to her face and burrowing into it, smothering the palm with hot kisses. Willy, his eyes closed and mind elsewhere, buried the hand in Rosanna's hair and gently stroked through the locks.

"Silky," he mumbled.

"Shall we take the other one off?" Willy presented his other, gloved hand to her immediately, the speed at which he did so amusing Rosanna. She removed the second glove more slowly than the first, relishing the agony on Willy's face as she ran a fingernail down his palm. With both hands freed, Rosanna kneeled up on the bed so that she was more or less the same height as Willy and pulled his face into hers for a kiss. She couldn't help but notice that the kiss was stronger, his grip around her waist tighter than it had been earlier. Rosanna pulled back and took Willy's hands in hers, smothering them in kisses. He giggled and raised his hands back to Rosanna's hair, stroking a line from her forehead to her shoulders and then downwards to her waist.

"I had no idea you were so soft," he whispered, running his fingertips across Rosanna's bare stomach. He grinned as she closed her eyes and surrendered herself to his touch. "Wow." Spreading his fingers wider and embracing more of her stomach in his grasp, Willy touched something that didn't feel quite as smooth as the rest of Rosanna's skin. He looked down to the waistband of Rosanna's skirt and leaned down to examine a thin scar running down under the skirt. Rosanna looked down and grimaced as she realised what had caught Willy's attention.

"Oh that's just one of the scars - it's nothing."

"Can I see them?"

"Willy - they're not pretty."

"Please?"

"Alright." Rosanna loosened her skirt and kneeled up a little straighter, revealing three horizontal purple lines, increasing in both intensity of colour and depth as they travelled from right to left. Willy tentatively touched each of the scars in turn, running a gentle finger along each line.

"Do they still hurt?"

"No."

"Which one did the, uh, damage?"

"This one." Rosanna touched the middle scar. Willy's hand joined hers. "Ugly aren't they? I try to keep them covered up but…"

"Don't. They're part of you and the reason you're here." He leaned over and clutched Rosanna's hips to hold her still as he planted a kiss on each of the three scars.

"You're a strange one, Willy Wonka."

"I know." He smiled and raised himself up to take Rosanna in his arms. "One more thing."

"Yes?"

"Given the fact that all this only happened because you were snooping around looking for your Valentine's present…"

"Yes?"

"What did you get me?"

While Willy tried and failed to extract information from Rosanna through the age old method of torture (in this case, tickling) and the rest of the humans within the factory started to settle to sleep, the other three chocolatiers in the town also started to turn in for the night. In Slugworth's small flat above his shop, Slugworth dropped his car keys into the bowl next to the door and scooped up his cat in one lazy movement.

"Hey Tiddles, shall we find Mummy?" he cooed at the tiny animal in his grasp as he traipsed through the flat en route to the bedroom. A large shape in the bed half-turned and Tiddles jumped from Slugworth's arms and onto the bed. Tiddles treaded the lump in the bed with his sharp feline claws and mewed softly.

"Mmm?" moaned the lump. "Oh, you're finally coming to bed. What did Mr Ficklegruber want?" yawned a woman's voice. Slugworth turned on the light and looked at his wife's tired expression. Mrs Slugworth was a gargantuan woman with a mop of greying curls that had once been brown, but which was now a rather dirty yellow colour thanks to hair dye. She was still attractive in the way that most women are, but her age and three pregnancies had understandably taken their toll.

"Just those Easter chocolates love. Nothing much."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"I don't want you doing anything stupid again. I'm not sure that this idea of merging your stores is such a good one."

"It is. Ficklegruber has done the maths and we're both likely to profit."

"And if you don't?"

"Look, it's my business and I shall partner up with whoever I chose!"

"Sorry I spoke," mumbled Mrs Slugworth, turning her back on her husband and trying to get back to sleep. "Just make sure we've got enough money to retire."

"I will." Slugworth pulled off his shoes and plonked down on the bed. "I will."

Ficklegruber glanced down at the flashing light on his mobile phone and flicked open the clamshell. Elaina's latest message flicked onto the screen.

_Will be there. See you at 11. Bring ice-cream._

Ficklegruber grinned to himself and leaned against his mantelpiece. In just a few weeks' time, his plan would be brought to completion and Wonka would be brought down. Then the story would be revealed to be a fake and Slugworth would take the blame. Assuming that Prodnose was still on side, he would be joining Ficklegruber in taking over Wonka's business. Ficklegruber could recognise talent when he saw it and Prodnose was an efficient candy maker if a lousy and sentimental businessman. If Prodnose was not on side, he would be easy to dispose of. And Wonka… Well, depending on Elaina's testimony, Wonka would either be disgraced, or disgraced and in prison. Ficklegruber still had a few weeks to work out the details. Chuckling to himself in the half-light, Ficklegruber poured a glass of brandy and headed to bed.

Stumbling up the road, the excess alcohol in his veins now controlling both reasoning and movement, Prodnose wound his way home. He happened to pass by the gates of the Wonka factory and looked up at the giant building in front of him.

"Hey Wonka. How're things?" he slurred. "You know - I always knew that you'd do well. Yeah. Always knew." Prodnose staggered and fell against the gates, rattling them loudly. He clutched at the railings and threw a look back along the street. It was empty. And cold. Prodnose pulled his coat around him and huddled in against the weather.

"Nice to see you're finally getting out and about. Sorry about the - you know - spying and everything. Always meant to apologise, but then you disappeared. Haven't really had the chance to see you again." A dog barked down the street, distracting Prodnose for a moment. "Should've written a letter. Maybe you'd have got one of your little pixies to read it to you. Pixies and Easter bunnies. You were never part of the real world, were you? I need to warn you Wonka - Easter this year. Ficklegruber…" Prodnose blinked with a sudden, unprecedented, burst of sobriety. "Need to warn Wonka. Hey - hey, let me in!" He banged on the gates again and again. "Let me in! Need to talk to Wonka! Got to warn him!" Prodnose hammered on the gates for a few more minutes until his hands were bruised and bleeding. "Please!" In the silence that followed, Prodnose started to think. _Maybe if I wait here until the morning delivery goes out I can get through the gates._ Just as that thought went through his mind, Prodnose heard the sound of footsteps approaching him.

"Wonka? Wonka - it's me - Prodnose! You're not going to believe this, but I've come to warn you. Ficklegruber and Slugworth are…" He paused. The footsteps were drawing closer and closer and yet no matter how hard he strained he couldn't see anyone in the courtyard. Understanding, suddenly wishing that he hadn't drunk quite so much, Prodnose turned around and looked up as the footsteps stopped right next to him. A tall, dark shadow stood there, waiting quietly as if interested to see what Prodnose would do next.

"Mr Ficklegruber sent you didn't he?" asked Prodnose.

"Yes."

"How long have you been following me?"

"About a month."

"So what happens now?" Prodnose looked up and regarded the shape above him.

"What do you think?"

"Wonka! Wonka help me!" screamed Prodnose, resuming his pounding on the gate. Minutes later, footsteps headed back down the street away from the unmoving and bleeding Prodnose.

_**Read? Review!**_


	25. Valentine's Day

Long after Willy Wonka had curled up into a ball and gone to sleep, Rosanna Derby relaxed back into her pillow and sighed quietly. She glanced down to her left side and tried to force a smile at the sight of Willy sound asleep next to her, his head buried cat-like under one hand. Reaching out a hand slowly, she stroked his hair and smiled as he complained in his sleep.

"Sorry honey," whispered Rosanna. She withdrew her hand and hugged her knees, glancing down at the sleeping form next to her with a pang of regret. "Didn't mean to startle you." Willy smacked his lips together and uncurled slightly, flopping over unceremoniously into the centre of the bed, ending in a star shape—the least considerate of sleeping positions in which to share a bed with someone—and starting to snore lightly. Rosanna grinned and shook her head before slipping down to the floor and walking over to the window, having by now abandoned all hope of getting back to sleep just yet.

The town below spread out and seemed to mock her with its tranquillity. Rosanna was feeling far from tranquil inside and while the tickling match earlier had dispelled some excess energy, it had served only to wind her up still further. A movement in the corner of her vision drew her attention to the factory gates for a moment. As she watched, a group of Oompa-Loompas in their black security uniforms were slowly opening the gates and pulling something inside. She continued watching until she realised it was not something but _someone_. Worried at this unusual activity, Rosanna walked over to the bed and shook Willy awake.

"Hmm?"

"The Oompa-Loompas are bringing someone inside the gates." The statement hotwired the chocolatier's brain and within microseconds he was up and out of bed.

"Are you sure?" he asked, hopping on one leg and trying to pull his trousers on.

"Yes. Whoever it is doesn't seem to be awake." She pulled on her dressing gown while Willy buttoned up his shirt and reached for his coat.

"I want you to stay here."

"No." Rosanna threw Willy's waistcoat to him and pulled on a pair of slippers. "You might need me to help."

"I can't imagine how, but fine. Come down if you must." Willy led Rosanna into the elevator and pressed the button for the Entrance Hall.

The Oompa-Loompas struggled with the heavy form of Prodnose as they brought him into the warmth of the chocolate factory. Willy and Rosanna ran over to the unconscious man and crouched next to him, Willy still fastening his coat around him.

"Prodnose," hissed Willy. "Throw him back outside in the gutter."

"Willy!" protested Rosanna.

"It's where he belongs," he snarled, straightening to walk away.

"You need to call an ambulance."

"Why?"

"Willy, he's hurt. Look - he's bleeding."

"All the more reason to get him off my floor."

"I can't believe you. Fetch me a telephone," said Rosanna to one of the waiting Oompa-Loompas, who immediately ran off to carry out her instructions.

"You realise that he is one third responsible for my factory closing?"

"That was years ago Willy Wonka and I am not about to allow someone to die just because you want some form of revenge!"

"This is not revenge!"

"Yes it is! And I thought you were better than this."

"I am…" faltered Willy, looking down at Prodnose's vacant expression with disgust. "I'm better than him. Better than all of them."

"So prove it and help him."

"If you insist." Willy kneeled back down and slowly brushed some untidy hair out of Prodnose's eye to better view a bruise that had formed there. "Oh, yuck," groaned Willy, suddenly realising he hadn't put on another pair of gloves. He fumbled in his pockets for a pair and slipped them on quickly, before leaning over Prodnose again. "He's not breathing very well," mumbled Willy. In the background, Rosanna dialled for an ambulance.

"The Wonka factory - front gates. As quickly as possible please."

"He didn't fall," muttered Willy. "He's been attacked." He glanced up at Rosanna and bit his lip. Rosanna handed the telephone handset back to a waiting Oompa-Loompa and moved closer to Willy.

"Attacked?"

"Yes. And he absolutely reeks of drink."

"Maybe he had a fight with someone at the pub?"

"Perhaps."

"Willy, what's wrong?"

"He wasn't the fighting type. Slugworth yes, Ficklegruber maybe, but not Prodnose, he was too…"

"Nice?"

"Too much of a wimp." Rosanna raised an eyebrow at this but now was not the time for sarcastic comments. "He wouldn't have fought back."

"Willy… Perhaps we should get him a blanket?"

"Yes - could you?" Fascinated now, Willy's eyes refused to leave Prodnose's face and he didn't notice when Rosanna scuttled off to fetch something to keep Prodnose warm. "Why are you here? Why here?" A red-faced Oompa-Loompa ran up to Willy and tugged on his sleeve. Tearing his gaze away from Prodnose, he turned to the security guard. "Yes?"

The Oompa-Loompa explained how he'd been on gate duty when he noticed Prodnose (via the security cameras) approach the gate about ten minutes earlier and slump down next to it. He hadn't heard what the rival chocolatier was saying, but it had seemed important and Prodnose had seemed quite intent on attracting attention and gaining entry to the factory. Thinking the man was simply drunk and recognising him from the three pictures in the security office under the heading "People to never, ever, under any circumstances, to allow into the factory" the security guard had simply watched while Prodnose continued pounding on the gates. However, when the second man approached the security team had been despatched to intervene, although too late to stop the attack on Prodnose.

"I see," said Willy. "Do we have this on video?" The Oompa-Loompa nodded. "Make sure you make a few copies - I have a feeling the police might want to see that tape." He sat back on his heels and looked down at the prone Prodnose. "So you wanted to get in, and then you were attacked. Someone was after you, but why?" On impulse, Willy checked Prodnose's pockets and found his wallet and keys. He put them back in the pockets they'd come from. "So it wasn't for money." Pondering, Willy massaged his temples and tried to figure out why Prodnose would come to the factory. Rosanna returned with a blanket and wrapped it around the prone rival.

"How is he?"

"The same. Ros?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think he'll be alright?" Willy looked down at Prodnose's face.

"I don't know." She looked down at the bruises around Prodnose's head and frowned. She hadn't seen such intense injuries for some time. While they were both watching, Prodnose's eyelids fluttered and he looked up blearily at Willy.

"Wonka?" he moaned.

"Yes?" asked Willy.

"Need talk to you…"

"I'm right here."

"I…" Prodnose blacked out. Willy prodded him in the arm experimentally.

"Well that was informative," said Rosanna with a sigh.

"It was. Why would he want to talk to me?" Willy frowned and retreated back into his thoughts, leaving Rosanna and the Oompa-Loompas to wait in silence until a distant siren announced the approach of the ambulance. "Ros?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like you to get a taxi and follow the ambulance to the hospital."

Willy sat awkwardly on the spare bed in the back of the ambulance, watching a paramedic hook up Prodnose to a ventilator and heart monitor as the ambulance sped its way to the local hospital. When there was no more the paramedic could do, he turned to Willy and nodded solemnly.

"Where did you find him?"

"Outside the factory - it seemed prudent to move him into the warm until you arrived."

"We normally advise against moving patients."

"He was moved carefully."

"I expect so. Do you know him?"

"I used to. He's Jeremiah Prodnose."

"The sweet maker?"

"Yes."

"And you're Willy Wonka?"

"Who else?" asked Willy dryly, tapping his top hat.

"What was Prodnose doing at your factory?"

"That's what I'd like to know." Willy looked over to Prodnose and frowned. "This doesn't make any sense…"

An hour later, Prodnose was carefully installed in a private hospital room, his injuries being too severe for him to be left on a ward. Willy sighed as he finished filling in as many of Prodnose's details as he could remember and turned to greet Rosanna.

"All done. We can go home now and get some sleep."

"No we can't, Willy." She turned and gestured to two men walking behind her. "These two gentlemen are police officers."

"I guessed," replied Willy slowly, taking in the uniforms. "What's the problem?"

"We need you to tell us what happened tonight sir."

"Well, nothing really - I was asleep, I woke up and I was told that someone was being brought into the factory. I have some security tapes you might want to take a look at though. They caught the attack on film."

"Could you take us to these tapes sir?"

"Ye-" Willy stopped. He'd already allowed Prodnose into the factory, albeit while unconscious, and was reluctant to allow any more strangers into the factory tonight. Rosanna sensed his hesitancy and reached out to him.

"They're not spies Willy - they just want the tape. They're not going to look around."

"Fine. Let's get this over with."

Rosanna involuntarily drifted off to sleep in the back of the police car on the journey home. While she was relaxing now that the main drama of the evening was over, Willy was sitting rigidly in the back of the police car as though terrified he would be accused of some grave crime should he dare move. When they finally pulled in through the gates of the factory, he shuddered as they passed a group of policemen at the gates, all frantically isolating the crime scene to maintain any evidence as to the identity of the attacker. The car stopped and Willy fairly ran from the panda car, darting up the steps and only pausing for breath at the top of them for a few moments before opening the main doors. Rosanna and the two police officers followed him and, despite his panicked state of mind, it gave Willy a brief rush of satisfaction when the two officers gasped in amazement at the sheer scale of the grand entrance hall.

"This way - mind your heads," said Willy in a sing-song voice, leading the officers down a corridor to the left of the main hallway. They stopped in front of a tiny door, obviously built for Oompa-Loompas and not humans. "Sorry about this," muttered Willy, crouching down and crawling through the door. Rosanna and the two policemen followed suit.

The security room was a small office whose furthermost wall appeared to have been made entirely of television screens, each displaying an image of the exterior of the walls in a continuous sequence all the way around the perimeter. Rosanna scowled as the police officers sneered at the four Oompa-Loompas. A central viewing screen was set up ready for their inspection and Willy nodded to the Oompa-Loompa in charge.

"Show me." The Oompa-Loompa bowed and pressed 'play' on the viewing screen. An image of the front gate filled the screen, shortly followed by Prodnose staggering into view. After a few minutes, he was seen to turn and for just a moment, the face of his attacker came into view. "Freeze," instructed Willy. He leaned closer and examined the face of the thug. "Hmm."

"Do you know this man?"

"No, Officer Morris, I do not. Continue," he added, straightening up. He flinched as each of the blows was rained onto Prodnose's undefended skull and Rosanna buried her face in his jacket. The four watched the rest of the tape in silence.

"Do you have a copy?" asked Willy. An Oompa-Loompa nodded and passed the tape to Willy, who handed it straight to Officer Morris. "Will that be all?"

"For now sir, yes. We may call on you again just to clarify a few details."

"Of course."

"Thanks for your help so far sir," added the second police officer, who Rosanna had found out was Officer Williams.

"Don't mention it," mumbled Willy, turning back to the view screen and rewinding the tape, transfixed by the attack.

"I'll show you out," said Rosanna, gesturing for the two policemen to leave the security room. They did so quickly and Rosanna leaned over to Willy before leaving. "I'll be right back."

"Kay."

When Rosanna returned to the security room, she found Willy still sitting in front of the viewing monitor and studying the security footage with a look of intense concentration.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes. No. Why would anyone attack Prodnose?"

"I don't know Willy. The police have said that they might be in touch later today."

"Guess we're not going anywhere then," mumbled Willy under his breath, a little too loudly as Rosanna caught what he had said.

"So you were planning on taking me away?"

"Yes. But we can't go now." Willy looked back at the screen. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. It's his," said Rosanna, pointing at the silhouette of the thug onscreen.

"I know. I'm still sorry though. I'd have liked to have taken you to Paris."

"Paris?"

"Yes. According to all the books, it's the most romantic city, although I didn't find anything particularly romantic about it while I was there."

"It's very pretty."

"Agreed. You visited it with the circus?" Rosanna nodded. "At least we can imagine what it would have been like to be there together." Willy looked down at his gloves and winced at the sight of blood before he slowly pulled them off.

"Maybe we can go after all this business with Prodnose has blown over?"

"That would be nice." Willy turned his attention back to the screen for a moment and then flicked it off. "Let's go back to bed - there's no point staying up and just waiting forever for the police to call."

Later that morning, Rosanna turned over in bed and shook Willy awake. She leaned over and kissed his cheek lightly.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Rosanna shouted in his ear. The chocolatier shot upright, his heart pounding. Upon realising his life was not in any immediate danger, he recovered magnificently and turned his head to face Rosanna.

"Good morning," drawled Willy dryly. Rosanna scrambled off the bed and started to root around inside her bag for his card and present.

"Here!" said Rosanna, presenting Willy with an envelope and a small package.

"Thanks," said Willy, reaching into the bedside table and producing a red envelope for Rosanna. "Here's yours. The present - well, the present…"

"Was the trip, right?" said Rosanna a little too brightly, trying to hide her disappointment for Willy's sake.

"Yeah, you could say that." He shrugged and handed her the Valentine's card. "Aren't these supposed to be anonymous?"

"Yes, but who else would you be sending cards to?"

"Good point." Willy busied himself opening the envelope and pulled out a rather sweet Valentine's card featuring two grey teddy bears. "Aw," he remarked with a grin, reading the verse inside and feeling a warm glow as he read the words "I love you" written in Rosanna's untidy scrawl. "I love you too," said Willy, leaning over and kissing Rosanna's forehead gently.

"Thanks," replied Rosanna, turning her attention to her own card. She slipped the card out of its envelope and stroked the front gently - the card was infinitely more expensive than the one she had bought for Willy and the front was decorated with a red, furry heart. Rosanna opened the card and read the verse and Willy's simple "W.W." signature with a smile. She stroked the initials and looked up at Willy. "Open your present."

"Okay - I feel kinda awkward not having one for you."

"I understand." The chocolatier turned the small parcel over and over in his hands before tearing the red wrapping paper off it carefully. Inside was a small jeweller's box and inside the box…

"Ros! It's beautiful," said Willy, lifting out a gold pocket watch. "I shall wear it always!" He clicked open the case and admired the dial, which was engraved with the letters W.L.W. "How did you find out my middle initial?"

"I asked your father. I thought maybe you could alternate the watch with your silver one."

"Or I could keep it for when we go out and wear the silver one inside the factory?"

"Open the casing up," instructed Rosanna. Willy did so and found a compartment for keeping a small trinket or photograph safe.

"This is exquisite - and by Davosa, too. Where did you buy it?"

"I ordered it a month ago from Switzerland - I was worried it wouldn't get here in time, but when I gave the address, the jeweller suddenly started reassuring me that it would be here for Valentine's."

"I guess the Swiss do like my chocolate after all," said Willy with a smile. "Thanks - it's beautiful." He pulled Rosanna into a tight embrace and inhaled the scent of her hair deeply. Unbidden, the unpleasant memory of the night before resurfaced and Willy sighed. "We need to go down and let the Buckets know what happened with Prodnose."

"Of course."

Several hours later in the warm February sunshine, the Buckets having been told about Prodnose and the police spoken to twice on the telephone, Willy Wonka paced in the courtyard of his factory and occasionally walked over to examine the bars of his gates and railings. Against his better judgement, he'd given a brief press conference earlier that day, stating simply that Prodnose had arrived at the gates last night for reasons unknown and had been attacked by an equally unknown assailant. The press, who until the conference had hovered like vultures, had then dispersed, Willy feeling quite nauseous at their obvious pleasure at having such an 'intriguing' story to report in their infernal papers. Despite the sun, it was still a brisk day and Willy pulled his coat closer around him as he tried to concentrate on his thoughts regarding Rosanna and not on the disaster involving Prodnose. While half of his plans had been entirely ruined, a trip out of the country not really being advisable when the police have said they might call around 'for a chat' sometime soon, there were still a few things he could do without going to an expensive hotel in Paris and leaving the factory for a few days. However self-centred he could be, Willy was not a complete idiot and he had noticed how disappointed Rosanna had been not to receive a Valentine's gift.

"Only one thing for it." Willy headed towards the gates and pressed the concealed intercom button. "Let me out, please," he spoke, apparently into the wall. The gates clicked unlocked and one opened just enough to allow him to leave. As Willy headed down the street, the factory gates clicked and locked shut behind him.

Rosanna paced back and forth inside her room. Willy's disappearance straight after lunch had upset her, particularly as she wanted to spend the day with him. Charlie was at school, Mr and Mrs Bucket had headed out, the grandparents were all asleep and Rosanna was… bored. The feeling was made worse by the knowledge she should be in Paris by now, strolling the streets with the man she loved, perhaps nibbling some pain au chocolat while they chatted about how blue the sky was or some other such romantic nonsense.

"At least he could make the effort to be here and talk to me," muttered Rosanna traitorously, glancing at the door and hoping that the chocolatier would suddenly appear.

Willy frowned at the shops in front of him. The nearest florist to the factory was, unfortunately, right next door to Slugworth's shop. This of course meant that the three rival sweet shops and the florist formed a picture perfect panorama that filled Willy's vision. A police car was parked outside Prodnose's, although the shop assistants inside were still trying to keep the business running as normally as possible in the circumstances. Fixing his gaze on the florist's shop, Willy ignored the crowd around the other sweetshops and made a beeline for the glass door. The bell rang sweetly as Willy entered the store and sounded again as he closed the door behind him, effectively sealing the interior from the sounds of the street outside. He looked out once more at the children milling around outside Slugworth's shop.

"Can I help you dear?" asked the white-haired old woman behind the counter.

"Yes - a dozen red roses please." Willy tore his gaze away from the pavement and looked around at the florist.

"Bless my soul - Willy Wonka!"

"Mrs… Everdene?" asked Willy tentatively. "Is it really you?"

"Yes dear - why, it's been twenty years! I remember when you used to buy flowers to use as models for your candies."

"Yeah… That was so long ago," replied Willy in a distant voice. "You always had the best flowers."

"And you always had the best candies - I always used to try and do my bit, you know, sending people to your shop when they were buying presents for their loved ones!" The tiny old woman gave a cackling laugh and her eyes twinkled in merriment.

"I used to send them to you, too, when they wanted flowers to go with the chocolates." Willy inched over to the counter and looked down at Mrs Everdene. She'd been old twenty year's ago and Willy had expected the shop to be run by someone else by now. It was odd how some people got old and then stayed that way for another seventy or so years.

"Yes, I know - they used to tell me you know. So, a dozen roses was it?"

"Yes."

"For someone special?"

"Very special," said Willy quietly. The old woman laughed and counted out twelve of the best stems.

"Want me to tie a ribbon for you?"

"Yes please." He watched as Mrs Everdene tied a perfect bow around the roses.

"You know, you were always very good for business back then."

"Thanks."

"Every Valentine's, young women used to come in and buy roses to send to your shop."

"I wondered where they bought them," said Willy with a slight shudder. He'd been vaguely aware of the effect his appearance had had on the young, female population of the town when he'd opened the chocolate shop on the corner, though had been far too interested in his business to really take much notice. He wondered now if it had really been his appearance or the combination of his good looks and the fact he made chocolate, something Rosanna had insisted was an irresistible combination. The plethora of roses he had received on Valentine's day had always come in useful to renew his window display though.

"Here you go my love. Twenty pounds."

"That's not as much as it says on the display," protested Willy. "Surely I should be paying you at least…"

"Let's call it a discount for old time's sake." Willy nodded slowly in agreement and handed over a twenty pound note. He realised the transaction was not over when Mrs Everdene looked up at him with a gleam in her eye.

"Is it true what they said about old Prodnose?" Willy's blood ran cold and he barely noticed when the bell rang behind him, announcing the arrival of another customer.

"What are they saying?" asked Willy carefully.

"That Prodnose was found outside your factory unconscious and you took him to hospital."

"Yes - some thug attacked him outside the factory and I called an ambulance for him."

"I heard you went with him?"

"I did - I travelled in the ambulance."

"Oh. His mother's ever so grateful for what you did dear - maybe you should call around to see her later on? She'd like to thank you in person."

"I… don't know. Thanks for the flowers." Willy smiled his plastic grin and turned around quickly, not bothering to look first. His free hand struck against the new customer's chest.

"Hello there Wonka. Got a girlfriend have we?" asked the customer. Willy's already ashen expression turned green.

"Ficklegruber…" he whispered.

"Indeed. It's been far too long." Ficklegruber smiled a fake smile and shook Willy's hand enthusiastically.

"No it hasn't."

"Not still bitter about the ice-cream are you?"

"You could say that."

"Water under the bridge, my boy - and of course, all's fair in love, war, and the confectionary industry. Another white rose please, Mrs Everdene." The old lady scuttled off to select a stem as Ficklegruber turned his attention back to Willy.

"Who's the rose for?" asked Willy hoarsely.

"Just a girl." Ficklegruber handed a five pound note to Mrs Everdene in exchange for the rose and nodded to her. "Keep the change," he instructed.

"Thank you sir, do come again!" replied Mrs Everdene.

"Until tomorrow, Mrs Everdene." Ficklegruber released Willy's hand and nodded politely. "I'll see you around." The elder chocolatier swept out of the shop and closed the door elegantly behind him. Willy exhaled slowly, aware that he had broken out in a thin patina of sweat.

"Goodbye Mrs Everdene," called Willy, fumbling for the door handle.

"Shall I see you again Mr Wonka?"

"I expect so."

"Don't you forget to call on Mrs Prodnose."

"Right - goodbye!" Willy rushed out of the shop, his heart hammering. _Call on Mrs Prodnose… No way. Not today at least. _He breathed in and out a few times. _Not today. _He looked down at the roses. _Prodnose and Ficklegruber… and within 24 hours. Happy Valentine's Day, Mr Wonka._ He stormed off down the street, intent on getting back to the factory without running into Slugworth and therefore completing the set of unwanted former acquaintances he'd run into.

Back at the factory, Rosanna had now moved her pacing to the Chocolate Room and was prowling around in the swudge without concentrating very much on her surroundings. It was for this reason she didn't see Willy approaching her until he was quite close. Her face broke into a grin as she noticed the roses in his hand.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" said Willy, presenting the roses with a flourish.

"They're very nice - you didn't have to you know."

"I know. But I'm just full of silly, romantic gestures like these. Like the dinner we're going to have at Fudge Mountain later, just the two of us." Willy swallowed and smiled nervously at Rosanna.

"Sounds lovely. Will I need to wear something to protect my hair?"

"No. I've asked the Oompa-Loompas to turn the fans off at six so the sugar has a chance to settle. Dinner's at six-thirty."

"What shall we do in the meantime?" asked Rosanna with a smile.

"Well, you need to put those in water and I have a few things to sort out." Willy tensed up and looked up at the ceiling for a moment.

"Oh, I see…"

"I'll meet you at base camp," said Willy, awkwardly hugging Rosanna just before disappearing across the swudge again.

"Yeah." Rosanna stared off after Willy with some concern. The awkward hug she could understand - it had been a stressful 24 hours. But there was something else - something that had caused him to shut himself away for long periods over the last week. When Rosanna had broken into these quiet moments, she'd caught Willy brooding over something and staring out of the window. She'd put it down to his forced secrecy over their trip, but there was something else bothering him, she was sure of it now. "Maybe I'll find out tonight," muttered Rosanna.

Willy blew out the match in his fingers and stepped back from the table to admire his handiwork. The crude hut at base camp had been stripped bare of all but two tables, one of which was set up in the middle of the room with two chairs and a red tablecloth, while the other was against the wall and bore hot plates with food laden upon them as well as a coffee machine. He had decorated the table at which he and Rosanna would be sitting with a pair of candlesticks and two beautifully folded napkins in the shape of swans. He had found some gold wrapping paper and earlier spent a tedious but constructive half hour cutting heart confetti to decorate the tabletop. A fire burned in the wood-burning stove in order to heat the tiny hut. Willy polished a knife on a cloth and checked the table layout for the umpteenth time that evening before checking his new pocket watch. _Rosanna should be here any minute._

In order to calm his nerves, Willy poured a glass of champagne and took a delicate sip out of the glass. Champagne flute in hand, he crossed to a mirror on the wall and checked his appearance. The usual paisley shirt had been changed for a crisp, white shirt with frills running down the front. His high-necked waistcoat had also been changed for a low-cut, silk waistcoat and the maroon work-coat was missing, replaced by his black dress-coat. In all, he felt strangely overdressed. He looked down at his white, silk gloves and reached up to straighten his top hat. As if on cue, Rosanna chose this moment to arrive, the crunching of the frozen icing sugar announcing her approach, and Willy straightened up and strode over to open the door for her.

"Hi." said Willy, pulling the door open. Rosanna stood in the doorway, her ugly brown coat covering her from neck to ankle. "I thought I threw out that coat?" He took a moment to scan over her immaculate make-up and realised she was carrying a pair of high-heeled shoes.

"I rescued it," replied Rosanna with a grin. She stepped into the hut and kicked off her sensible flats and pulled off the accursed coat, revealing the slinky blue cocktail dress she had worn at the Green Dragon back in November. Rosanna dropped the high heels to the floor and squirmed her feet into them.

"You look lovely."

"So do you. Nice hat," Rosanna said with a grin, just before knocking it to the floor.

"Hey!" Rather than diving to retrieve the hat, Willy leapt forward and caught Rosanna in a tight hug, play-fighting her into submission in order to kiss her.

"Mmm," mumbled Rosanna, emerging from the kiss. "You've gone to a lot of effort," she commented, gazing over the table and its decorations.

"You're worth it. Everything has to be perfect for our first Valentine's dinner together - despite everything else that's happened. Shall we get started?" Willy released Rosanna and walked over to pull out her chair for her. Rosanna sat on it daintily and watched as Willy moved around the table to take his seat. Just before he sat down, he removed his coat and lay it over the back of the chair, then pulled off his gloves, tossing them into the hat that was still sitting on the floor. Rosanna gasped.

"You're not wearing any gloves!"

"I just took them off, didn't you see?"

"I mean - under the white ones - where are your purple gloves?"

"Well - you said you would prefer it if I didn't wear gloves," answered Willy, slightly shyly. "I thought tonight would be a good opportunity to go without them." He rubbed his hands together nervously and Rosanna reached over to take his hands in hers.

"A good opportunity indeed." They sat like that for some time, his hands in hers, before they started on their dinner.

After dessert and a quick cup of coffee, Rosanna and Willy moved outdoors and walked along a path to a rug set out by Willy earlier that evening. Willy fastened his coat around him with some difficulty, the white gloves he'd hastily pulled on preventing him from getting a good grip on the buttons. He finally succeeded and sat down next to Rosanna.

"This is so nice," sighed Rosanna, looking up at the lights playing above Fudge Mountain and resting her head on Willy's shoulder, being careful not to dislodge his hat for a second time that evening.

"It is, isn't it?" Willy replied quietly, momentarily distracted by the lights. Rosanna sensed that something was amiss and shuffled around to face him.

"What's up?"

"Nothing. I'm just thinking, that's all."

"About what?"

"Whether I should build a little cabin out here for us," lied Willy, although suddenly finding himself quite taken with the idea. "This is where I asked you out."

"I know. You looked so nervous," Rosanna said with a smile, stroking his face.

"And you were so beautiful. Even with the bump," laughed Willy, running a hand over Rosanna's forehead. "And then of course, you kissed me."

"I know." Rosanna giggled. "And you finally got over your cooties allergy." They both laughed, then Willy suddenly became very serious. He stood and pulled Rosanna up with him, kissing her deeply and running his hands through her hair.

"Stand still," instructed Willy. He fumbled inside his coat pocket for a moment and pulled out a small black box. "I know it hasn't been very long since we got together, but…" he opened the box, revealing a sparkling diamond solitaire ring. "I can't imagine my life without you and I need to know if you'd consider…" he stopped and smiled apologetically to Rosanna. "Nearly forgot." He dropped down to one knee and removed the ring from the box, then took Rosanna's left hand in both of his.

"Oh my," gasped Rosanna, feeling tears threaten to fall.

"Would you do me the very great honour of… What I mean to say is…" Willy swallowed and looked down before bracing himself and looking back up at Rosanna. "Darling?"

"Yes?" Rosanna struggled to keep a straight face and not start grinning.

"Will you marry me?" His face took on a hopeful expression, his eyes pleading for the answer he wanted.

"Yes," whispered Rosanna. She allowed Willy to slip the ring onto her finger and puzzled for a moment over the perfect fit. "Did you guess the size?"

"No. I tried a ring gauge on you while you slept. You could sleep through anything, I swear…" Willy exhaled, his strength and resolve now gone. He rested his forehead against Rosanna's hand and closed his eyes. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I meant to do this on top of the Eiffel Tower or maybe in our hotel room, and the ring was supposed to be your present…"

"This is just perfect," said Rosanna, sinking to her knees and putting her arms around Willy.

"I love you."

"I love you too." Rosanna smiled, then started laughing involuntarily. Tears fell from her eyes and she hugged Willy tightly.

"What's wrong?" asked Willy, utterly confused.

"I never thought this would happen! I'm so happy Willy," wept Rosanna.

"Women," sighed Willy. He nestled his face into Rosanna's neck and cuddled her close as her sobs subsided.

"Sorry - don't know where that came from."

"It's okay - shall we go back inside the hut?" asked Willy, noticing that Rosanna's arms were freezing.

"Please." Willy stooped down and collected the rug before they headed off.

Back inside the hut, Rosanna admired her ring in the candlelight while Willy cleared the table, feeling elated and as though she was floating on air. Sighing happily to herself, she smiled over at Willy and he paused for a moment to return the gesture, dropping the plates onto the table as he did so.

"Willy?"

"Yes?"

"It's been a wonderful evening."

"I know." Willy turned and faced the fireplace for a moment, watching the flames dance and thinking for a moment of what he should do next. He reached behind the hotplates and switched on a small CD player, the dulcet tones of Barry White pouring out of the speakers almost at once and filling the room.

"Oh," said Rosanna with a smile.

"I asked Mr Bucket what type of music would be appropriate," explained Willy, wringing his hands. "Would you like to dance?"

"That would be nice," she replied, pulling herself to standing and walking over to Willy, who smiled and circled her waist with his hands.

"Let's boogie." They swayed together for a minute or so until Willy lowered his head and kissed Rosanna softly.

"What was that for?"

"For being so wonderful. Thanks for the watch." Willy pulled her closer to his chest and closed his eyes, losing himself for now in the dance. Out of his conscious control, his hands traced a pattern over Rosanna's bare back and she writhed in his arms in response to the tickling sensation. "Sorry."

"Carry on." Rosanna rested her head on Willy's chest and sighed contentedly.

"If you like."

"I do." She lifted her head and kissed Willy's lips gently, pleased when he returned the kiss more forcefully. He ran his hands up her back and ended the kiss abruptly when Rosanna clawed at his back.

"Sorry," she muttered, removing her hand. Willy looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Whatever happens, I want you to remember I love you. No matter what the future brings or anything. Okay?"

"Okay. Why so serious?"

"It's just that I never thought we'd get this close. I knew that people did, but when I first wanted to be with you I hadn't thought that it might really be forever."

"Nobody knows when they first get together with someone whether it's going to last forever or six days, Willy. I'm just so happy that we're one of the lucky couples."

"It's so weird - a year ago I was extolling the virtues of flying free and trying to get Charlie to leave his family and now we're going to get married. It's a little scary."

"I know darling."

"But in a good way of course," said Willy, lifting Rosanna's hand and fiddling with her ring playfully.

"Of course."

"Shall we go upstairs? It's just that I asked the Oompa-Loompas to turn the wind back on at midnight and I don't want my hair messed up."

"Fine," replied Rosanna, backing off and slipping off her shoes.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I can't walk across the icing sugar in these heels. I'm changing back into my flats."

"And that coat I suppose?"

"Yup."

"Great." Willy watched as his sapphire clad fiancée changed into a brown trench coat and thus into a tramp look-alike. "First thing tomorrow, I'm buying you a new coat."

"If you insist. I'm not going to argue if you're going to spend money on me."

"Come on," said Willy, pulling on his coat. "Let's go." Rosanna nodded, draining her glass of champagne before heading to the door.

Rosanna and Willy crashed through the door to his room locked in an embrace, oblivious to anything other than each other. Willy backed off first, to close the door and switch on the lights.

"How come men don't get rings?" asked Willy.

"No idea. Maybe it's because women are more special than men so we deserve the jewellery?" She giggled girlishly and swayed a little, hoping Willy wouldn't mind that she was more than a little tipsy.

"If you say so, dear," drawled Willy with a sly grin.

"Just for that you're not getting another kiss tonight." Rosanna dropped her coat over a chair and flopped back onto the bed, turning her back on Willy and hiding her smile.

"Oh really?" Willy bounded onto the bed next to Rosanna and pulled her onto her back, dropping down and kissing her swiftly before she could move out of the way.

"Hey!"

"You know you can't resist."

"I think I can."

"I think you can't," muttered Willy, kissing her again. Giving up, Rosanna giggled and wrapped her arms around him.

"Help, I'm being harassed by a crazed chocolatier."

"I can stop if I'm annoying you." Willy withdrew and backed off the bed, dropping to the floor and walking away. "I'd never, ever, do anything you didn't want to."

"I was kidding!" protested Rosanna. "Besides, you know exactly what I want to do."

"Yes, I do." Willy bit his lip and looked over at Rosanna, who was now yawning and making herself comfortable on top of the duvet cover. "Ros, could I have a quick word?"

"Mmm-hmm. I'm just going to rest my eyes for a minute if you don't mind. I'm still listening though."

"Okay. I just wanted to tell you something." Willy walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to Rosanna. She reached over and stroked his arm gently, then rested her hand next to him.

"I'm listening."

"I was thinking about marriage and stuff at New Year's, thanks in part to Charlie. I didn't ask you then because I thought maybe I wasn't right to act that rashly and was being silly because I'd never had a relationship before."

"You're not rash," mumbled Rosanna.

"I know. That's why I didn't ask you until today. I wanted to make sure it wouldn't be a mistake. And it isn't a mistake - it's the best decision I've ever made." Willy smiled and looked down into his hands, fiddling with his gloves as he removed them. "I knew I had to ask you to marry me - especially since I admitted to myself that I wanted to get closer to you." He swallowed nervously and paused before continuing. "I want to be a part of your life forever. And to always have you in my life. And I want us to - be together - as soon as possible. I guess - I guess I'm sorry I chickened out last night and was wondering whether we could… If we could…" Willy huffed out a breath and frowned, irritated at being so nervous about a simple, three-letter word. "If you wouldn't mind if we had… if we made... made love tonight. To celebrate getting engaged. And because it's Valentine's Day and I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing right now." Willy stopped and paused for breath, waiting for a response. None was forthcoming. "Rosanna? Ros?" Willy turned around and looked down into Rosanna's sleeping face. "But I thought you wanted to…"

Disappointed, Willy stood up and made his way over to the sofa and draped his coat over the back of it. He let out a long sigh and turned to Rosanna, hoping she would have woken up. Rosanna started snoring in response. A smile tugged at the corner of Willy's mouth and he clicked off the bedroom light. Staggering around blindly in the dark, he managed to get undressed and make himself comfortable on the sofa, Rosanna by now taking up the whole of the bed in a spread-eagle pose that, while seemingly suggesting all sorts of possibilities, Willy decided meant to leave well alone until morning.

"I guess I can wait one more night," he sighed, settling back on the sofa, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.


	26. Oh my

It was dawn, or at least it would have been if the thick cloud cover had allowed the feeble sunlight to penetrate through to the frigid earth below. In an alleyway behind Mrs. Everdene's florist shop, Mr. Ficklegruber paced up and down, breathing in the last drag from the cigarette before tossing it aside carelessly. He despised smoking, knowing that the smell and nicotine stains on his fingers did not suit his dapper, successful businessman image. Nevertheless, in the wee small hours of the morning when he had something on his mind, he always found himself indulging his habit in the back alley that linked the chocolate shops and served as a delivery route for the stores along this street.

Things were not going to plan. Prodnose should not have tried to warn Wonka, and that fool Ficklegruber had hired to keep an eye on Prodnose should never have allowed the younger chocolatier to escape alive. For goodness sake, how hard was it to carry out a simple instruction? _If you must lay hands on him, make sure he never wakes up._ How hard was it for hired thugs to understand that those who lived, talked? Ficklegruber had decided however to praise his hired muscle, and sent the man away with double his fare on the condition he never return to the town. It wouldn't do to allow a brute like that to see that his actions had caused Ficklegruber to lose some control over the proceedings, however flustered he may be feeling. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, savouring the moment when the nicotine finally took its hold on his nervous system. Another breath, and then he folded his hands in prayer position in front of his mouth, pursing his lips, deep in thought now. _Prodnose is a problem. A problem that must be eliminated before it wakes up - but how?_ Ficklegruber looked up at the windows of the shops next door and thought about blackmailing Mrs. Prodnose into ensuring her son's silence, buying her with the fact Prodnose would be arrested if he spoke out against their plot as well. _That would never work - she's too good a person to be a part of blackmail - she'd see her son going to prison as his just and rightful punishment._

Ficklegruber prowled along the alleyway, lost in thought. _There has to be a way. Something to buy his silence._ A door slammed behind him, startling Ficklegruber, who jumped and held out a hand defensively.

"Who's there?"

"Just me," said a deep voice, belonging to a shadow that approached from the rear of the shops. As it walked into the glow of the streetlights, the shadow was revealed to be Slugworth.

"Oh! It's you. Thank God."

"Who did you think it was? The thug who attacked Jeremy?"

"No, of course not. But one cannot be too careful. Especially given what happened the night before last." Ficklegruber exhaled and forced himself to calm down. He was probably lucky that Slugworth lacked the necessary intelligence to read facial expressions - even in the half-light, Ficklegruber was quite sure he was giving off quite obvious 'guilty' signs to anyone who cared to notice.

"I'm going up to the hospital later - Mrs. Prodnose asked me to drive her, and of course I couldn't say no. Do you want to come?"

"No. I can't stand hospitals," muttered Ficklegruber, hoping the lie would not incriminate him. It was one thing to pay a thug to follow and potentially kill someone, it was another to go and stand by their hospital bed and offer comfort to their grieving mother. Ficklegruber wasn't quite sure he had sunk to that level of depravity yet.

"I'll be shutting the shop this morning to take her. I can't believe it - who did this?"

"I don't know," said Ficklegruber, turning away from Slugworth.

"I can see it's got you worried - maybe it's best we don't talk out here. If Wonka's somehow found out..."

"Hush!" Ficklegruber looked up and down the empty alleyway and tried to calm himself again. There was no chance of being overheard - it was only six in the morning and the town was as silent as the grave. Still, one couldn't be too careful.

"I only meant…"

"I know. But there's no way. Me, you, Elaina and Prodnose - that's it. No-one else knows." Doubt reared its ugly head. He'd hired four men in total to follow Prodnose and Slugworth - what if one of them had heard something and blabbed and that was why… No, he knew why Prodnose had been attacked. He'd arranged that himself… Ficklegruber felt certainty ebbing away from him and swallowed some spit to allow himself to talk. "The police seem to think it was a random attack. It probably was - let's leave it at that."

"Don't you care?" asked Slugworth.

"Of course! But there's nothing we can do. Is there?"

"I suppose not," said Slugworth slowly. "I'm going in - I only came out because I thought you were a prowler. Good-day."

"I'll see you later." Ficklegruber watched the other man go and started involuntarily hyperventilating as soon as Slugworth closed the rear door of his shop. He darted for the relative comfort of his own storeroom and sat there amongst the boxes of Amorous Ice Cream. _This was too… messy. The whole point of this operation was that it was neat, with no loose ends. Prodnose should have been trimmed and now he was in hospital, where the drugs would soon bring him around and… The drugs would soon… The drugs could easily… _Ficklegruber smiled and realised he'd come up with a neat, quick solution to his problem. And in addition to that, he'd realised it was time to spring his trap on Wonka, just in case that fool Slugworth tried to do the same as Prodnose. Feeling much better, Ficklegruber set about firing up the kitchens ready for another day's candy making.

Back at the Wonka factory, Willy stirred in his sleep and glanced over to the bed, wondering for a moment why he'd chosen to sleep on this rather small, hard sofa instead. Recollection hit him with the force of a small freight train. _Engaged! I'm engaged! And yesterday evening I wanted to... To do the wild thing! With Rosanna! But she… _Willy looked over to the bed where Rosanna was now on her front, her face buried into the pillow, emitting some most unladylike grunts as she slept. _Most attractive._ He rolled his eyes and carefully crossed to the chest of drawers, extracting a clean set of underwear without too much noise. Willy sneaked over to the bathroom to take a shower, shutting the door quietly behind him. Despite his best efforts, Rosanna woke with a start as the door clicked closed. Rolling over, she swore under her breath before opening her eyes, as was her custom after drinking the night before.

"Willy, turn the TV off," she moaned, then opened her eyes fully and realised that Willy was not in the room. The roaring noise she could hear was only the shower in the background. "Never mind," she moaned again, flopping back onto the pillow and nursing her pounding headache with one hand. "Never again…" Despite this declaration of teetotalism, Rosanna knew it would probably be only days until she next imbibed alcohol. Her bladder cried out for relief and she staggered over to the bathroom, pausing as her hand hit the doorknob. "Not a good idea," she muttered, running to the door of the bedroom and hoping she'd make her own room in time.

Ten minutes later, Rosanna re-entered the room and sat down on the sofa, feeling somewhat better now that she'd also taken the opportunity to clean her teeth. She waited for a minute or two.

"How long does it take?" She figured that Willy had been in there for at least twenty minutes. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind some company, after being alone all morning," she said to the room in general, smirking to herself as she walked over and opened the bathroom door.

The shower cubicle was steamed up, but she could just make out the outline of Willy's form as he showered. She crept closer and tried to work out what he was singing.

"…in a Barbie World…"

"Oh my," mouthed Rosanna, covering her mouth to stop herself from bursting out laughing. She turned and checked her appearance in the mirror. _Hmm. No panda eyes. Good._ As silently as could, Rosanna pressed herself against the wall and sneaked over to the cubicle, opening the door in small amounts in time with Willy's singing. She caught a glimpse of Willy singing into the showerhead before he replaced it and continued shampooing his hair.

Just as Rosanna was about to slip off her dress and surprise Willy by joining him in the shower, disaster struck. Her nose irritated by the warm, damp atmosphere in the bathroom, Rosanna sneezed quietly into her hand. It was loud enough, however, to startle Willy, who spun around to face her a little too quickly, losing his balance and sprawling onto the floor. Shampoo ran into his eyes and he screeched with a mixture of pain and shock.

"What the hell?" demanded Willy.

"Let me just rinse out your eyes," replied Rosanna, stepping into the cubicle fully dressed and reaching for the shower head.

"I can do it myself - thank you. Ow." Willy winced as he stood up. "My tail!"

"You have a tail?" asked Rosanna, squinting around to check she hadn't missed something in her earlier survey.

"Tailbone," sighed Willy, rinsing his eyes and then rubbing the offending, bruised vertebrae to relieve the pain. He stopped abruptly. "Rosanna?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you in the shower with me?"

"I thought I'd surprise you." Rosanna raised an eyebrow at Willy and smiled.

"You - you did." Willy tried to hide himself behind his hands as he spoke. "But your dress is going to get ruined - how about you wait outside for a minute?"

"I could always take it off?" She turned around and made a show of reaching for the zip. "Oh darn - could you do it for me?"

"Yargh," answered Willy, not sure whether to proceed or not. It was very - bold - of her to come into his bathroom like this, but what she was suggesting was not - altogether - unpleasant. It may even prove to be quite enjoyable. Willy squeaked as the full implications of removing Rosanna's dress and allowing her to shower with him played through his mind.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"I…" Willy looked across at Rosanna. _I wanted to make love to her last night. I still do. Maybe this wouldn't be a bad idea._ Gently, scared that he might make a mistake, Willy brushed Rosanna's hair from her neck and stepped forward, slipping an arm around her waist and lowering his mouth to her neck, kissing her softly as he unzipped the dress. "I guess it's a yes," whispered Willy.

"Oh good." Rosanna helped Willy remove her dress and divested herself of her underwear quickly. She turned in Willy's arms to face him, kissing his chest and pulling him close to her.

"Ros…" murmured Willy, closing his eyes and savouring the sensation of being so close to her. "I love you - don't forget that."

"I won't." Rosanna stood on tiptoe to kiss him and felt Willy shiver, his knees buckling. They fell backwards against the tiled wall, both now under the running water. Willy sank to a seated position, Rosanna kneeling between his legs and continuing to kiss him.

"You fell asleep," accused Willy as he wrapped his arms around Rosanna and drew her into his chest.

"When?"

"Last night. While I was talking to you, you fell asleep."

"Sorry. What did I miss?"

"I asked you if we could make love," replied Willy, kneeling up and reaching down to stroke Rosanna's back. She let out an irritated shriek.

"You did? And I was - asleep?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe it…" Rosanna stared off into space, unable to believe that she'd thrown away her chance of having sex with him the night before. "I can't believe that I did that." She shook her head as Willy lowered his kisses to her shoulder and downwards. "I can't believe I'm muttering at a time like this," she continued, shutting herself up and scratching hernails over Willy's shoulders.

"This was such a good idea," whispered Willy, pulling Rosanna closer for another deep kiss. "This is just perfect."

In a hospital room across town, a heart monitor bleeped slowly at Prodnose's bedside. Another nondescript nurse came in and sighed sadly at the readings. Occasionally one of them would replace the IV drip or take his blood pressure, but the nurses never smiled and the atmosphere inside Prodnose's hospital room was one of patient foreboding. The nurses knew that severe head trauma rarely passed without some form of long term damage and, with each passing hour, Prodnose's vital signs were deteriorating more and more. It would take a miracle for the chocolatier to pull through.

Slugworth glanced at the clock and wondered if there was any point reminding his wife to hurry up again. They should have left for the hospital five minutes ago and Mrs. Prodnose was understandably becoming restless in the front of the store. Sighing, Slugworth walked into the salesroom and coughed politely to announce his presence.

"Oh, young Harold, I didn't see you there," croaked Mrs. Prodnose, an ancient, tiny, woman with waist-length white hair and at least fourteen layers of clothes on. She got up from her chair slowly and hobbled over to Slugworth, leaning heavily on her stick for support.

"Sorry, Mrs. Prodnose, I didn't mean to startle you."

"That's quite alright dear. Are we going then?"

"Yes - I'll just get you out to the car and then we'll be off." Slugworth offered his arm to Mrs. Prodnose, who took it gratefully. As he helped the old woman out of the shop and into the Daimler, Slugworth stole a few glances at Prodnose's shop, now shut up and unlikely to reopen unless Prodnose himself recovered.

"Oh well, best be off then," sighed Mrs. Prodnose philosophically.

"I'll just tell my wife to hurry up."

"Of course dear - take your time." The old woman looked up at her son's shop, slightly teary-eyed.

"I'm sure she will," muttered Slugworth, heading off to hurry up the ever-tardy Mrs. Slugworth. Mrs. Prodnose watched him go dispassionately. Out of necessity, she'd maintained cordial relations with Slugworth and his wife – and even that old toad Ficklegruber – in order that her relationships with her neighbours might be smooth rather than strained. Mrs. Everdene was always good for a chat of course, but she was a simple soul who had long since stopped judging people. Mrs. Prodnose had always thought her son, her darling Jeremiah, was above the likes of Slugworth and Ficklegruber – both men which she despised due to their underhand and devious business practices. Needless to say, she had been sorely disappointed when Prodnose had stolen recipes from Willy Wonka.

"Bad blood," muttered Mrs. Prodnose. "And bad influences, both of them."

Ficklegruber watched from his window as Slugworth and his wife finally made it into the Daimler and pulled away from the pavement, spluttering off into the distance as they headed to the hospital.

"At least I get to make a profit out of the day," chuckled Ficklegruber, watching as the disappointed children turned away from the closed shops of Prodnose and Slugworth and headed for his own. "On with the show." Ficklegruber had already decided on the first step of his plan of attack – when Slugworth returned, he would ask him which room Prodnose was in and work from there. With any luck, Prodnose would be eliminated by daybreak, and that would only leave Wonka to be taken care of. Ficklegruber cackled, rubbed his hands together and jigged happily on the spot. Then he pulled himself together, smiled a sugary smile, and headed out to the salesroom to greet his new customers.

Rosanna and Willy staggered out through the bathroom door and collapsed onto the bed, both with soaking hair and both, needless to say, more than a little "in the mood." Rosanna pulled free of Willy's kiss and looked up at him lovingly.

"Are you absolutely sure about this?"

"Oh yes," gasped Willy. "I was ready last night, I swear I was, but you, you…"

"I know."

"Oh Rosanna, I'm so scared I'll get this wrong!" Tears threatened to fall from Willy's eyes as he tried to steady himself for finally losing his virginity, a few hours later than he'd originally anticipated.

"You won't. I'll show you what to do."

"How?"

"Well, for a start,"

"Yes? Should I be writing this down?" Willy reached for a pocket that wasn't there and frowned.

"No. For a start – stop panicking." She dug her nails into his sides and grinned as he squirmed appreciatively at the attention.

"Gotcha. And then?"

"Stop asking so many questions and kiss me you fool."

"Kay… Ros?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Time passed, as it has a habit of doing when people are occupied and not taking notice of it. And, as always, there were many different ways of viewing this particular moment in time. One could view the half-hour period as a moment of tragedy, in which Mrs. Prodnose sat by the bedside of her son, a son who, oblivious to the world, was lost in just one thought – _must warn Wonka, must warn Wonka_. Or, one could observe the overwhelming dread building up around the Wonka factory as Ficklegruber's plot finally started to gather pace in response to Prodnose's treachery. At precisely the moment Willy and Rosanna crashed through the bathroom door, Ficklegruber picked up his phone and called Elaina, inviting her for dinner that night in order to persuade her to go the police the next day and report Wonka. She had accepted the invitation even as Wonka whispered "I love you" into Rosanna's ear, oblivious to what Ficklegruber would demand of her that evening or of the effect her lies would have on those around her. Slugworth meanwhile ignored the conversation between Mrs. Prodnose and Mrs. Slugworth as they talked about how very kind Wonka had been to take Prodnose to hospital. _So very kind,_ thought Slugworth. _If he only knew what we are about to do. _An unfamiliar pang of guilt overtook Slugworth, but he quickly shrugged it off. _It's too late to back off now._

In a playground across town, Charlie Bucket sat gloomily on the swings, a wilted pink rose from the day before held between his fingers. Amanda had refused the rose, telling him gently, but firmly, that she wasn't interested in going to the dance with him on Saturday. Charlie had stuffed the rose back into his pocket and forgotten about it until this morning, when he'd seen Amanda walking hand-in-hand with Simon, a boy who was popular simply because he played up in class to cover the fact he couldn't read or write. Charlie sighed sadly and let the rose fall onto the grass. On top of everything, he was going to get into trouble for bunking off school this morning as well. Maybe he should just go home and pretend to be sick – but that would be lying, and his mother sorely disapproved of that. Deciding that he'd rather face his mother's wrath than go in late to school, Charlie headed home and hoped that his mother would consider a broken heart excuse enough to stay at home for a day.

One could also view the moment as being one of opportunity, where one should do their best to achieve their greatest ambitions. Mr. and Mrs. Bucket sat down on the swudge and shared a pot of tea, taking in the view of the Chocolate Room one last time before Mr. Bucket headed off to work.

"Are you sure, dear? You won't get bored?" asked Mrs. Bucket.

"Not at all. I'll still see Carl and Euan at the pub and I'm sure you could use some help around here."

"Yes. But that job – it's the only thing that really links us to our old life."

"No – we are. Our family. Let someone who needs the job take it – we've got more than enough with the allowance Mr. Wonka gives us." Mr. Bucket kissed his wife and smiled. "I don't need the job, and there are lots of people looking for work. Plus – I get to spend more time around here – which can't be a bad thing."

"Away with you," laughed Mrs. Bucket. "You'll be late for handing in your resignation."

"And we don't want that, do we?" Mr. Bucket waggled his eyebrows and went off to work, for the last time.

Upstairs, after a series of strange and unnatural calls that later neither Rosanna nor Willy would own up to, Willy gave a final gasp and collapsed down onto Rosanna, his energy spent. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him onto his side, embracing him all the while.

"Oh my God," muttered Willy, closing his eyes and cuddling in close to Rosanna's neck, burying himself from sight of the outside world. "Oh my God. Oh my God."

"God had very little to do with it, Willy," answered Rosanna, a smile playing on her lips. "I love you."

"I love you too. Oh my. Oh my. I had no idea. Oh God. Oh my God."

"Stop that Willy."

"Stopping. Oh my."

"Are you okay?" She stroked Willy's hair and pulled back a little to study his face. Silent tears were running down his cheeks and Rosanna brushed them away slowly, careful not to startle him in his heightened emotional state. He didn't answer, so she repeated the question. "Are you okay, darling?"

"Yes. I just didn't expect that. It was… You were… Amazing. And it'll never be like that again because next time I'll know what I'm doing and it won't be new and…"

"There's going to be a next time, is there?"

"Yes – oh please, yes!" Willy looked up at her, some of his old confidence resurfacing. "If you don't mind, that is."

"I don't mind at all."

"Was I… okay?"

"Yes. For a beginner, you were very okay."

"For a beginner?"

"Obviously we need to refine your technique…"

"How do we do that?"

"Practise."

"Oh," muttered Willy quietly, then realisation dawned. "Oh! Practise! Fine – when do we start?" He sat up quickly, sparks flying in front of his vision in response. "Maybe not yet…"

"Maybe not." Rosanna smiled and pulled Willy back into her arms, allowing him to rest against her chest. _Not bad at all_, she thought, settling herself into the pillows and smiling a slow, contented smile.

Across town, Mrs Prodnose leaned over her son and kissed his forehead lightly. Slugworth felt himself in need of air and waited outside the room as his wife held Mrs Prodnose by the arm while she said goodbye to her son. Amidst promises to come and see him again the next day, Slugworth could have sworn he'd overheard the words, "Be sure to thank Mr Wonka when you get better," before the old woman had walked out of the hospital room to join him. While his wife filled in the awkward silence with mindless chatter, Slugworth was disinclined to speak throughout the rest of the walk back to the car, and during the drive home he remained silent. He couldn't understand why anyone would attack Prodnose of all people – it wasn't as if the man had any money, or influence, unlike Mr Ficklegruber. And to be found outside Wonka's factory as well. Maybe he'd been going to warn Wonka. _Heh. It's lucky he was stopped if he was_, thought Slugworth, tapping the steering wheel as he pulled up in front of Prodnose's shop. He stepped out to help Mrs Prodnose and froze as the old woman took his arm. _Very lucky. Very lucky indeed. A bit too lucky._ Shrugging off the feeling of uncertainty, Slugworth led Mrs Prodnose back into her son's shop.

Willly watched as Rosanna combed her hair at the dressing table and let out a contented sigh. She turned and smiled at him, aware that he was still in need of some assurance that she still loved him.

"I don't want to ever leave this room again," announced Willy. "Ever."

"I know. But we have to." Rosanna put down the comb and walked over to the bed.

"Why?"

"Because I'm starving. And you keep telling me that I can't eat you."

"I wouldn't taste too good," said Willy with a grin, arching back as Rosanna planted a kiss on his chest.

"Oh, I don't know…" Rosanna grinned devilishly and pecked a few times at Willy's stomach, triggering him to clench his muscles defensively. She blew a raspberry on Willy's stomach.

"Oh gross!" shouted Willy, squirming about and trying to free himself while laughing uncontrollably.

"Fine, I was just wondering if you liked it."

"I didn't say to stop," retorted Willy. "I just said it was gross." He tried not to fight her as she attacked his stomach again, biting his knuckles to stop the shouts that threatened to escape from his mouth. After a few minutes torture, Rosanna backed off and smiled down at the prone man in front of her.

"Let's go get lunch."

"Okay. You'll bring it up, yeah?" panted Willy.

"No way, you lazy thing, you're coming downstairs to get it yourself. I'll meet you down there."

"No! Ros wait! I'm coming with you!" Willy scrambled off the end of the bed and crawled crabwise to the bathroom door, not wasting time on standing up straight. Rosanna giggled and decided to wait for him, basking in the warm glow the room was still giving off. She could well understand Willy's reluctance to leave, given that this was now officially their room, it having been appropriately broken-in. She looked down at the sparkling engagement ring and wondered where Willy had bought it – she really hadn't thought to ask as yet. Still, there would be plenty of time later. While Rosanna continued musing on all the possible things that might occur in the future, Willy emerged from the bathroom dressed in his trousers and shirt.

"Ready?"

"I need my waistcoat… And my watch… And my coat." Willy wandered around collecting and donning the items as he spoke, giving his new pocket watch a friendly pat as he fastened the clasp. He added his top hat to the ensemble and picked up his cane. "Ready."

"Aren't we forgetting something?"

"What?" Rosanna held up a pack of purple gloves.

"These." Willy walked over and considered his options carefully.

"I suppose – for appearances sake – I should look as normal as possible."

"Indeed."

"I wouldn't want anyone to think we'd, you know…" Willy selected two gloves and pulled them on awkwardly.

"Why not?" Oblivious to any offence he may have caused, Willy plunged onwards.

"I don't want our special moments being shared with anyone. Least of all the Buckets or my father – can you imagine what it would be like if they started giggling every time we went to dinner because they know we're, you know?"

"Would they giggle?"

"Possibly."

"Do you giggle at the idea of Mr and Mrs Bucket having sex?" Willy burst out laughing in response and Rosanna sighed. "Never mind."

"They don't – they share a house with Charlie and both sets of grandparents."

"Did you never stop to wonder why they have their own room?"

"That's… That's just… With Charlie in the same house? With their parents in the next room?"

"I'm guessing they're quite a bit quieter than you."

"Ew – that's not right."

"You're going to be thinking about this all through dinner with them tonight aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Oh dear…"

"You're right though. I can't imagine the grandparents would even notice."

"No. No they wouldn't." Despite her reluctance to admit it, she was starting to worry that Willy would say or do something silly at dinner to embarrass them all.

"My father might though – would you be mortally offended if I denied we'd made love if he asks?"

"Why would he ask? Good grief Willy, he's the one who told you to come to my room at Christmas!"

"Yeah. It's not like he'd know anyway."

"Right."

"He's probably never done it anyway."

"Willy," said Rosanna patiently.

"Yes?"

"He's your _father_."

"So? Oh yeah… Oh gross!"

"Quite. Can we go down and eat now?"

"Yeah. But I'm not actually that hungry…"

"Willy! Downstairs, now!"

"Yes Rosanna." Willy bowed his head and headed into the elevator, sensing Rosanna's eyes boring into his back at every step. "You're really hungry then?"

"Yes." Willy pressed a button and grinned at Rosanna cheekily.

"So you don't mind going out for lunch?"

"Where?"

"Anywhere. You pick."

"Urgh, we're going up and out again aren't we?"

"Yes. I thought you liked the elevator?"

"I do. Kind of."

"I even fitted those new doors for you on the roof so that we don't crash through the ceiling anymore. Though I think that quite detracts from the experience myself."

"Hmm."

"We need to make a social call as well." Willy looked down and suddenly all joy drained from his face.

"Who?"

"I promised Mrs Everdene I'd go and see Mrs Prodnose."

"Why?"

"I don't know – she said it might be nice! I couldn't argue with her!"

"Why not?"

"She's old!" Willy bit his lip. "Don't be angry – I'm sorry we're wasting an afternoon."

"I'm not angry – why would I be angry?"

"You seem very aggressive." Willy backed down at the look on Rosanna's face and was relieved when she broke into a grin.

"Just the hormones darling. Now let's go have lunch, then see this old woman shall we?"

An hour later, lunch having been eaten at a quiet café, Willy parked the elevator in the street directly outside Prodnose's shop, noticing with some suppressed sadness that it was closed 'until further notice' according to the sign on the door. Rosanna stepped out onto the familiar street and cast an eye over the chocolate shops, breathing in the scent of candies and feeling a guilty rush of pleasure. Striding ahead, Willy reached Prodnose's door and rang the bell briefly.

"Well, no-one's at home. Guess we'd better go."

"We have to wait. It's only poilte."

"Fine." Willy rang the bell again and leaned against the glass, glaring out at the customers walking in and out of Slugworth's and Ficklegruber's stores. He scowled at a fat child carrying what looked like most of Slugworth's stock and pondered how much of what the child was carrying was a direct copy of his own merchandise.

"Someone's coming," said Rosanna, looking in through the glass. Willy turned and saw a small, frail old woman hobbling towards the door. She reached up to unlock the top bolt with some difficulty, then undid the yale lock and the bottom bolt, leaving the door on the chain as she opened it.

"Yes? Can I help you? I'm afraid the shop is closed," croaked Mrs Prodnose.

"I know. My name is Willy Wonka. I helped your son get to hospital."

"Good gracious – you must come in!" The door was closed briefly as Mrs Prodnose undid the chain and then it swung back to allow Willy and Rosanna to enter. "And who is this young lady?"

"My fiancee – Rosanna Derby."

"Pleasure to meet you, young lady," said Mrs Prodnose, closing the door on the world outside again.

"And you, madam." Rosanna offered her arm and the old woman took it gratefully, allowing Rosanna to lead her into the back room and onto the chair by the fire. Willy cast a suspicious eye over the surroundings and winced – the parlour had been decorated by someone (Willy's guess was Mrs Prodnose) about twenty years previously and never updated. The walls were a hideous pink and there were doilies everywhere – under plantpots, under ornaments, even under other doilies. Ignoring the bad taste, Willy sat down primly on the sofa and Rosanna joined him.

"I came to ask you how your son is today, Mrs Prodnose. Is he any better?"

"No, I'm afraid not." Mrs Prodnose looked down at the floor, then seemed to think of something. "Would you like a cup of tea?" She started to get up.

"No – we just had a coffee," said Rosanna quickly.

"Would you mind if I had one?" asked the old lady quietly, struggling to get out of her chair.

"Shall I make it?"

"That would be wonderful dear." Mrs Prodnose sank back down into the chair with some obvious relief. "The kitchen's through there," she pointed to a door behind her. "Do help yourself to a cup – and one for the young gentleman as well of course."

"Milk? Sugar?"

"White and two sugars please." Rosanna smiled and left the room. Willy stared at his knees – he wasn't quite sure what to do next. He'd asked the most important question he could think of – and got an answer reasonably quickly. By all rights, he should have been out of there already, not waiting for Rosanna to make him a cup of tea while he sat with a total stranger in _Prodnose's _shop.

"I hope Mr Prodnose recovers," said Willy, aware that saying something along those lines was probably expected.

"I'm sure Jeremiah will pull through. He's stronger than he looks."

"Oh. Good."

"You know, I don't think he ever apologised for what he did to you dear."

"No – he didn't."

"He was ever so sorry though. I think he panicked when he realised he was losing money. He's not a bad sort – not like those other two."

"I'm sorry madam, but I think you're a little biased," said Willy bitterly, before he could stop himself.

"I know I'm his mother – but honestly, he's never been the same since. I think he felt he let himself and his father down terribly by stealing from you."

"His father?"

"Before your time love. We used to run this shop together. Then Jeremiah took over when his father died and well, let's just say that it might have been kinder to let him choose his own career rather than force him to take over this shop."

"Doesn't he like it?"

"He loves inventing candy, but he hates paperwork and cannot run a business. We've lost more due to bad budgeting than anything else." She sighed. "You wouldn't believe there was a time when we could have bought out Ficklegruber and Slugworth, would you?"

"No."

"Ah well. Nice to see you doing well, though. I always said you were a good sort. I tried to tell Jeremiah to try and team up with you, but then he threw in his lot with Ficklegruber and that slime Slugworth and that was the end of any chance of that." Mrs Prodnose looked fiercely at the fireplace, as if daring the flames dancing there to defy her in some way. Willy noticed how feeble the fire was and an idea struck him.

"Would you like me to tend the fire for you – I'll bet it hasn't been done since Mr Prodnose went into hospital?"

"That would be very kind of you dear."

When Rosanna walked in a few minutes later, she nearly dropped her tray of teacups. Willy was kneeling on the floor, his coat draped over the sofa behind him, his hat and cane with it, and he was clearing the clinker from the grate while Mrs Prodnose gave him instructions on how to rebuild the fire. They both laughed at some unheard joke and Rosanna walked further into the room.

"Oh, thank you my dear. Ah, perfect," the old woman commented, smacking her lips as she tasted the tea. The three spent a few minutes without talking while Willy rebuilt the coal fire and closed the door, securing it carefully.

"That should be it," said Willy, pulling off his gloves and throwing them into a waste paper basket. He reached for his spare pair and found out that he'd forgotten to pocket them this morning. "Shoot."

"I think Jeremy has some spares in the back room, if you want another pair," offered Mrs Prodnose.

"Oh no, I couldn't."

"If you're sure." Willy sat back on the sofa and gingerly reached for his teacup, trying not to wince as he touched the warm china surface. The three took their tea with only minimal chat and soon Willy realised that nearly an hour had passed since they'd first arrived. He jumped up and set his teacup down carefully.

"Gracious – I didn't think I'd taken up so much of your time!"

"That's alright Mr Wonka – you're quite welcome anytime."

"Thanks," said Willy, smiling at the old woman while Rosanna took the cups out to the kitchen. She stood up and Willy automatically took her hand, a little surprised to find the wrinkled flesh so soft to the touch. He helped her walk slowly to the front door of the shop, trusting Rosanna to collect his belongings and follow them.

"That's a lovely girl you've got there Mr Wonka."

"I know," said Willy, grinning down at Mrs Prodnose.

"You treat her right, you hear?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I can't tell you how nice it's been to have you come around – you must come back."

"I will – I promise. And you must call me to let me know how your son is doing," said Willy, producing a card from his pocket and giving it to her. She fumbled a little, but put the card in her pocket.

"I can't thank you enough – you probably saved his life."

"I know." He still couldn't quite believe what he'd done for Prodnose, of all people - one of the three people he'd thought he couldn't care less about. Rosanna arrived, laden with his coat, cane and hat and Willy bowed to Mrs Prodnose by way of goodbye. "Until next time," he said gallantly.

"Goodbye, Mr Wonka," croaked Mrs Prodnose. Good day to you, Miss Derby."

"Goodbye!" Rosanna slipped out onto the street and linked her free arm through Willy's while Mrs Prodnose locked the door and hobbled back into the parlour.

"That house was freezing," complained Willy, shrugging into his coat as he walked to the elevator.

"I know. They didn't have much in the kitchen either. I hope she'll be okay. She's a nice old dear."

"She is, isn't she?" Willy looked down and sighed. "Maybe we should call in tomorrow and check she's okay for food and stuff? No-one else seems to care much."

"She said Slugworth gave her a lift to the hospital."

"But also that she wouldn't allow him in the house." Willy looked up the street to Slugworth's shop, where the man himself was emerging from the door – obviously intent on speaking to him. "Oh no – Rosanna, double-time." Willy tried to reach the elevator door, but was too slow.

"Wonka! A word please." Slugworth trotted up to Wonka, his chins wobbling as he ran. He arrived only a few seconds later, slightly out of breath despite the fact he'd 'run' only twenty yards.

"Yes?" snapped Willy, tired of socialising for one day.

"I just wanted to say – I think what you did for Prodnose, well, it was really decent of you."

"I know. I'd like to say you'd have done the same, but I doubt it somehow." Willy sneered a little – Slugworth had always seemed to be the most aptly named of his aquaintances and even the man's appearance revolted him. A change passed over the man's face and Willy glanced behind him to see Ficklegruber standing at the door of his shop, a thunderous look on his face. He turned back to the now ashen Slugworth.

"Just wanted to say that- that's all."

"Kay." Slugworth turned on his heel and positively fled back to his own shop. Willy led Rosanna to the elevator and pressed the button for home, shuddering as he leaned against the wall. "Weird."

"What's weird?"

"Is it me, or have all the other chocolatiers in town gone bonkers recently? Prodnose getting into fights, Slugworth coming up and talking to me, Ficklegruber buying flowers…"

"Flowers?"

"He said he's got some girl."

"Oh. Are we really going back to Mrs Prodnose?"

"Yes. I think we have to – I don't want to, but it's the right thing to do."

Later that evening, Slugworth downed a drink of whiskey and glared down at the table. He was beginning to doubt Ficklegruber's story. It seemed highly unlikely that anyone would believe someone as kind as Wonka would be capable of rape. Slugworth had also spent some time listening to Prodnose's worries about their plan over the last few months and while those fears hadn't made much sense to him at the time, they were starting to now. _We'll never get away with this. It's too big._ Slugworth, it had to be said, didn't have too many qualms about disgracing Wonka and causing the other chocolatier to lose money. As far as he was concerned, like Mr Ficklegruber said, the arrogant young man was ripe for a fall. But the thought that Wonka could be ruined for no reason, ruining Slugworth in the process, did not sit well with Slugworth at all. He poured another drink and downed it, rising and walking to the hall to collect his coat.

"I'm just popping out love," he called up the stairs.

"Don't be too late!"

"I won't." Slugworth walked out of the back door of his chocolate shop and locked it behind him, walking to Ficklegruber's back door quietly, trying to think how best to say he wanted to pull out of this plan. He heard Ficklegruber's voice from inside, arguing with someone on the phone. It was cold and Slugworth pushed the door experimentally, walking inside on finding it unlocked. He walked through to the front parlour, Ficklegruber's voice coming through louder and louder as he got closer, breaking for a pause occasionally as the other participant in the phonecall replied.

"Yes – and let me make it clear – I want no mistakes this time. Double the fee. Yes. No, I'm afraid it would not help you to talk to the police. We said double, and that is what you get. When the job is finished." Ficklegruber sighed and held his head in his hand. "I know – but Prodnose is a threat. He needs to be eliminated. Don't you dare hang up…" Ficklegruber slammed down the handset. "God dammit!" He scowled and turned around to see Slugworth watching him.

"Who was that?" asked Slugworth.

"No-one."

"Didn't sound like no-one. What was that about Prodnose?"

"Ah, you heard that?" A muscle twitched on Ficklegruber's face and heturned and made himself busy at the drinks cabinet.

"Yes."

"Have a drink, won't you?" said Ficklegruber, pouring a whiskey for himself and Slugworth.

"If you insist," said Slugworth, drinking down the whiskey and barely noticing the bitter flavour.

"Good boy," said Ficklegruber, setting down his own, untouched, whiskey glass.

"What are you doing? What was that phonecall about?"

"Taking care of the loose ends. It seems my contact has let me down, so I suppose I'll have to pay dear old Jeremy a visit tomorrow myself."

"I thought you hated hospitals?"

"Oh I do. But needs must…" Ficklegruber gave an odd sort of smile as Slugworth staggered a little. "Come on, you and I are going for a little drive." Obediently, barely able to think straight, Slugworth followed Ficklegruber out and handed him the car keys.

"You're driving."

"Of course."

Quarter of an hour later, Ficklegruber reached the outskirts of town and stopped the car on a sliproad for the motorway, his leather gloves making it difficult to turn the ignition key to the off position. He smirked at the barely conscious Slugworth in the passenger seat and got out of the car, leaving the driver's door open. He walked around the car and pulled Slugworth out of the passenger seat, positioning him after some painful minutes in the driver's seat and propping his hands on the steering wheel. After ensuring that Slugworth was secured with a seatbelt, Ficklegruber put the car into gear, and rested Slugworth's foot on the accelator, trotting after the car to slam the door as it careered down the road and onto the motorway. The inevitable crash and whine of broken metal sounded a few seconds later.

"High on methodone and alcohol, you decided to go visit your daughter. How sad that you decided to relapse after all these years out of rehab." Ficklegruber stared down at the carnage below and remembered that he needed to get out of sight fast. "If the crash didn't kill you, the overdose will. And you drank it so willingly too…" He smirked, turned up his collar, and walked the five hundred yards to the local pub, where he would later claim he'd spent the entire evening.

* * *

**Many thanks to The Wonkamatic for beta-reading and of course to all you wonderful reviewers! More soon, I promise. Sorry to disappoint those who were expecting a more - explicit - sex scene. I didn't feel that it fit into this story and yes, this chapter has been through an edit since it was originally posted. If there are any of you out there who would would like to see the 'missing half hour' then perhaps I'll write a side fic filling in the details. Drop me a line by email/review if you'd like this to let me know. **


	27. Temporary title

Hi there. 

Firstly, apologies for not writing more when I should have.

The next chapter is on its way.

I always said I wouldn't leave a story unfinished - so here goes. Expect the next chapter in the next two weeks.

And, if my wonderful beta-reader is out there, a very apologetic fanfic author needs your help...


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